Monster's Serenade
by Devy-Artemis
Summary: Edward Masen was changed in 1817,England. He later on moved to US. Due to a personal tragedy,Bella Swan has to move to Forks with her uncle, Charles Swan. Fate brings her at Edward's doorstep, and the dreaded monster rears its ugly head.AU B/E DARK EDWARD
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: Edward Masen was changed in early nineteenth century(1817) by Carlisle Cullen in England. He later on separated himself with the Cullens(who are still in England) and moved Washington, USA. Bella Swan's parents die in an accident, and she has to move to the small, village-like homestead township of Forks Prairie with her uncle, Charles Swan. Fate brings her at Edward's doorstep, and the dreaded monster rears its ugly head. Will she survive the monster?

**A/N**: I have taken Twilight back in time. Instead of 2005, it is now set in the year 1890. The place is the same, Forks, better known as Forks Prairie during that period of time. The characters are not canon. Bella isn't as clumsy, Charlie or Charles isn't emotionally stunted, and Edward…well only one word for him –DARKWARD. Hehe…enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. Everything Twilight belongs to Ms. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**(YEAR 1890)**

"Isabella, we're here!"

Her uncle's voice barely penetrated her sleepy mind, but her eyes slowly opened to his calling. They had reached their destination, Forks Prairie, Washington.

Isabella looked out of the window of their carriage and saw a vast expanse of ancient forest. She wondered how small this place was, since all she could see was the forest and more forest.

"I don't see anything, Uncle." Confused, she turned toward Charles.

"Forks Prairie is a small place, dear, more like a village or a homestead. The forest surrounds it, but I assure you that we are about to reach our home in a minute, so get yourself together, sleepy head." He smiled at her reassuringly.

Isabella nodded and sat up straight, brushing a hand through her dark auburn hair. She quickly pulled it into a tidy bun and rubbed her eyes vigorously to ward off the drowsiness.

She was tired, both emotionally and physically. The sudden death of her parents had rendered her almost hysterical, and if it hadn't been for her uncle, Charles Swan, she would have gone insane with the trauma. He had been there with her when she was told about her parent's death.

Her parents, Renée and Philip Swan, had gone out to attend a social event, but they never returned. A fire broke out at the event, and everyone inside the hall perished in it, including her parents. At the time, Charles was visiting his brother, Philip. He gave his earnest and full support to his brother's only child, who was immersed in grief and hence unable to pay mind to the worldly affairs that had to be dealt with after her parents' death.

He knew that his responsibility didn't end there. The seventeen-year-old Isabella's guardianship was now in his hands as well. After the funeral, Charles quickly settled all the monetary affairs of the Swans and took Isabella with him, away from the place that would constantly remind her of her pain.

"That, my child, is our home." Charles pointed to the house they were approaching, which was still half-hidden behind an array of spruces. The trees suddenly gave way to an opening, which revealed the house and its small front garden to Isabella's curious eyes. The carriage came to a stop at the edge of the garden. Charles disembarked and quickly turned around to help Isabella down the steps.

While her uncle retrieved her luggage, Isabella went back to observing her new home. The pale structure had the typical homestead feel to it, with its two-story frame, a central chimney, and dark, slanting roof.

Rather unsurprisingly, she noted, that trees and lush greenery surrounded it from all sides except the front. Green and all its variant shades, it seemed, was all that Forks Prairie offered. She surmised it wouldn't take much out of a painter's palette to paint the landscape here. A tinge of olive there, a smattering of emerald there… and for the sky—an ominous gray.

It wasn't the matter that she hadn't seen her fair share of overcast skies or thickets of trees in her hometown. It was the overall oppressive and eerie feel of this combination of heavy clouds and thick vegetation that had her a bit unsettled.

Her private musings were when her uncle muttered about approaching rain and hurriedly ushered her inside the house. Once inside, Charles moved all her belongings upstairs in her designated room while she quietly followed him.

"You like your room? I'm getting a new bedspread and curtains for it, just have to wait for a day. I promise you that it will be as comfortable as you want." He tried to sound enthusiastic about it; an attempt to cheer her up.

"You don't have to do that, Uncle… I'm fine with it. Please don't trouble yourself. I have already been enough of a bother," she said, looking at him pleadingly.

She didn't want to be an inconvenience. She knew that her uncle was a man of principles, and hence, he had taken her into his care without a moment's hesitance. Yet, she didn't want to overburden him. She knew that despite his cheerful appearance, he wasn't in very good financial condition. In the past, he had taken loans from his employer and was running under heavy debt.

"Isabella, it's the least I can do for you. You're my responsibility now. You're like my own child, and from now on, I'm going to treat you like my daughter. So please, if you want anything, just let me know." He stroked her head affectionately, his eyes brimming with emotion. Charles never had any children with his late wife; he had treated Isabella as his own even when her parents were well and alive.

"Uncle, I really am fine with everything here. You don't need to change a thing. I like it the way it is, and I'm happy with it. I know that you love me like your own daughter, and I'll try and be that daughter to you." She tried to set his mind at rest, worrying that he might try to provide her with comforts beyond his reach.

Charles put an arm around her shoulders as he told her not to worry about a thing. The affectionate gesture warmed her heart and brought tears to her eyes. Charles stroked her head again sighed wearily. He wanted to provide for her as her parents did, but he knew he was going to fall short now and then. Yet, she was his only family now, the most precious thing to him, and he knew he had to try.

* * *

As the days passed, Isabella slowly settled into her new life with her uncle. This life was bleak and uneventful, but she was fine with it, as 'eventful' didn't always mean happy events. The events of the past were a confirmation of this fact.

She looked out of her window, towards the sky and sighed. It was always the same—dreary gray. The sky of Forks Prairie rarely saw the golden rays of the sun. It was a cold and wet place, with skies pouring rain every other day. Isabella missed the sun, its brightness, and warmth. She missed her hometown, Portland, which was teaming with vibrant life, always moving and changing with time. But here, time seemed to stand still. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. Even the nearest town, Port Angeles, was about sixty miles away.

There were no houses in the vicinity of her home, either, and therefore no interaction with neighbours. All she did was clean and cook for Charles, and then either read or sew to pass her day.

Even Charles couldn't help her with this solitary life, as his work made it impossible for him to be at home before dark. His work involved a lot of travelling, mostly to the areas with lumbering activities. He had the job of supervising the lumbering business of his employer.

As the sky turned dark, Isabella set the table and waited for Charles to come home from work. She followed the same routine everyday.

Her wait didn't last long. She heard the hooves of the horses of his carriage outside and ran for the door.

Charles greeted her cheerfully as she opened the door for him. He looked happier than usual.

"You look jovial today, Uncle. What is it?"

"It is that obvious, eh? My employer, Mr. Masen, has granted me a raise, a substantial raise, that is!" he told her gleefully.

"That is wonderful, Uncle! How thoughtful of him." She smiled warmly at him. Seeing him happy filled her heart with joy.

"I'm going to take you to Port Angeles tomorrow and buy you something to celebrate the occasion," he told her, as she put his coat away.

"No, no…you don't have to do that! I'm just happy to see you happy, Uncle."

"Isabella, I _want_ to…let a father buy his daughter a token of love and affection." He was determined this time.

"But, Uncle, it's so far off. It'll take an entire day!" She was suddenly worried about the long distance they would have to cover.

"I have thought about it, Issy. We'll leave early morning, and then, we'll stay overnight at the guest house of Mr. Masen," he tried to set her mind at rest.

"But—"

"I already asked for his permission, you needn't worry about it, Issy."

She sighed reluctantly and nodded, smiling at him all the while. The prospect of buying new things excited her, but the guilt of unnecessary spending overrode it. She knew about their financial constraints, and didn't want to squander the money on trivialities such as fancy clothes and accessories.

The next day, as per his promise, Charles took Isabella to Port Angeles and prevailed upon her to buy the things she most required. She tried to demur, but he insisted, resulting with her acquiring two new dresses, a pair of ladies' shoes, and a set of necklace and earrings. He urged her to select more of the proffered items, but Isabella declined. She already felt guilty of profligacy.

On their way back from Port Angeles, Charles took a detour, informing Isabella that he had to pay a visit to his employer for an important errand. Isabella nodded, while curiously looking out of the carriage window as they came to a stop in front of a massive stone structure. The Masen manor gave the impression of a behemoth standing tall around the unremitting swath of green. Its gray façade nearly merged with the sky, imparting to it a strange, haunted aura.

Isabella felt a sense of unease wash over her as she appraised the looming mansion. In an attempt to shake the odd feeling, she shifted her gaze to the more cheerful looking flowers that adorned the lush gardens in front of the stately home.

"Issy, I'll be gone for quite a while in there," Charles said. "Why don't you come and sit inside the waiting room for the time?" He gestured for her to come with him, and the obedient she was, she followed. However, the prospect of entering the mansion didn't appeal to her.

Isabella settled in the waiting room while Charles disappeared down the long corridor that led to the interior of the manor. The room was adorned with various pieces of art, which piqued her interest, though she suppressed the urge to reach out and touch them. Instead, she trained her eyes on the marble floor, counting the off-white slabs to pass her time. After a few minutes spent in waiting, she grew restless and started pacing around the room. Once again, the paintings called to her, and this time she gave in.

It was the first time, after the death of her parents, that she indulged herself in art. She spent the rest of the time observing each piece in detail, fascinated by the meticulous brush strokes that gave them a magical feel. She became so engrossed in the paintings that she didn't hear Charles approaching her.

He tapped on her shoulder. "Issy, let's go home."

"Hmmm." She nodded distractedly, still lost inside her own world. Another tap on her shoulder, though, promptly pulled her out of her trance.

She gave her uncle an apologetic smile and meekly made for the door. Charles gave her a reassuring smile as he guided her back into their waiting carriage.

"So, you were working with Mr. Masen?" she asked curiously as she settled in, watching him pull on the reins.

"No, uh…not with him," Charles replied, "but yes, I had complete a task for him in there. Working with him is rare, since he is somewhat of a recluse and doesn't like people infringing upon his personal space." Charles actually knew that he was one of the very few people who were allowed to meet him in person on a regular basis.

"A recluse? Why so?" asked Isabella.

"I haven't a clue, dear." He shrugged. "He just seems to prefer solitude." Charles knew that Edward Masen kept his distance some reason; the reason, though, wasn't entirely clear to him. That he was somewhat different from others, may be it. Or perhaps, in Charles personal opinion, he had a few skeletons hidden in his closet. Yet, he never questioned it or discussed it with others. He knew that in his dire circumstances, being loyal to his employer was of utmost importance, regardless of his antecedents.

"But you get plenty of solitude here anyway, why seek it?" Isabella's own frustration with the isolation of Forks Prairie was plainly reflected in her question.

"Well, how am I to know?" Charles sighed wearily. "Moreover, my concerns only rest in my work. And he has been a most benevolent employer, Issy, never once denied me a loan. So I shouldn't question his odd preferences." He was especially grateful for the financial help Edward Masen had provided him when his wife was sick and the medical expenses were beyond his means.

"Yes, he did grant a raise to you," Isabella conceded, deciding for now to leave alone her confused thoughts about Mr. Masen

"Never mind, Issy… So tell me, did you enjoy shopping today? Or did you go just to make your old man happy?" Charles teased her good-humouredly, trying a change of topic.

Isabella smiled and nodded. "You know that I like everything you bought me. Thank you, Uncle."

"A daughter doesn't thank her father for these things, Issy." He pretended to be annoyed, but then gave up and laughed aloud, prompting a chuckle from her as well.

* * *

Edward strolled toward the main corridor of his palatial manor. It was past midnight, the perfect time for his nocturnal excursions. Not many people would be on the streets at this hour, hence, no witnesses.

As he approached the main door, a sweet, flowery scent caught his attention. He followed the scent, and it led him to the waiting room, where it grew stronger. He stood in the room and inhaled deeply. It felt delicious on his tongue and amplified his thirst, so much that he could almost feel himself drooling at the thought of hunting.

Thus, without further delay, he rushed out of the mansion and into the night, in search for his meal. His destination for tonight would be Port Angeles. Not the most suitable place to find his meal, but he didn't want to travel farther than that. His thirst was almost driving him insane. The sweet scent emanating from the waiting room had made him ravenous.

As he travelled swiftly through the forest, he decided he'd have to find two victims to satiate himself tonight. As per his usual manner, his victims wouldn't know what was happening until it was too late. It took a mere second to snap their necks. It was the easiest death he could give to them, an act of kindness.

* * *

"Hey Issy, there's a party at the Webbers' today, would you like to go?" Charles asked the next morning once he and Isabella finished their breakfast. "Nothing formal, though. Mrs. Webber was asking for you…she wanted you to meet her daughter, Angela. You both are the same age." Charles wished for Isabella to venture out and socialize a bit, since she mostly stayed back at the house and had a nonexistent social life.

"Hmm…do you want me to go?" She seemed hesitant and doubtful regarding the prospect.

"Of course, dear," he said, showing his enthusiasm by smiling brilliantly at her. "You can take the carriage. You know where their house is, right?"

"Yes, I've been there with you once," she replied. "You aren't coming?" She did want him to accompany her, since she didn't personally know the Webbers. She had only met with Mr. Webber the one time she had been to their house.

"No, I'm a bit tired, dear," Charlie admitted ruefully. "I only get to rest on weekends, so please forgive your old man." He knew it was his duty to chaperon her to such social gatherings, and to properly introduce her to Webbers. The guilt of not being able to do so ate at him. If only his back wasn't giving so much a trouble…

"It is fine, Uncle, you do need your rest. Maybe we can go some other time, then?"

"No, uhh, Issy, I _want_ you to go, to make some friends here," Charles said quickly. "Just take the carriage. It's not that far away. But don't stay for too long, dear. I mean, be back before dark." He patted her shoulder, trying to convince her.

He wasn't worried much about her safety. Forks Prairie hadn't had any instances of crime ever for as long as he remembered. Therefore, he felt it safe enough to let her go on her own. Moreover, he trusted her fully. Charles knew that Isabella was like an angel incarnate.

Isabella chewed on her lip as she thought about her uncle's suggestion, unsure whether she'd be able to manage on her own. She didn't do well with crowds or strangers, and the thought of a full-fledged social gathering made her a little apprehensive. Yet, her uncle wanted her to make new friends. She herself felt lonely, and oft wished for company. Hence, she agreed.

* * *

Isabella discovered that handling herself at the Webbers' was easier than she had assumed it would be. Mrs. Webber treated her with warmth and civility, and Angela became an instant friend. The whole gathering was jovial, helping Isabella in putting her sorrows aside for a few hours. She laughed and chatted with the other guests, and it didn't make her feel uneasy at all. Being there made her realize that her earlier fears were mostly misplaced.

It happened so that she had been so engrossed in the chatter around her, she didn't notice the sun slowly setting in the background.

"Isabella, I'm so glad that you came today. I'm glad Mother introduced me to you. She knew we would get along, and get along we did! I would love it if you would stay tonight," Angela babbled happily, lighting a lamp on the table they were sitting at.

Isabella stared at the flickering flame of the lamp, realization dawning upon her. She spun her head around and looked outside the window. It was getting dark. She had all but forgotten about her promise to her uncle.

She stood up in haste, wringing her hands nervously.

"Oh… Angela, I would have loved to stay," she said sincerely, "but my uncle would get worried sick about me. As it is, I'm late. I have to head back immediately. I promise you that I'll come some other day and stay overnight with you."

"Oh, you didn't tell him about staying overnight?" Angela asked in surprise. "But you should have. It'd be difficult for you to travel back now. The clouds bring the darkness in quicker than usual."

Isabella agreed with her, but she was bent on returning home nevertheless.

Angela didn't push her to stay then, but she did press for another visit, to which Isabella readily acquiesced.

When Mrs. Webber learned of Isabella's impending departure, her queries were the same as Angela's.

"You're leaving?" Mrs. Webber asked, her voice reflecting her disappointment. "I thought you would be staying the night, Isabella."

"Uhh…I'll come some other day, Mrs. Webber," Isabella promised as Angela handed her her coat.

She thanked the Webbers for their invitation and bid them a quick farewell.

* * *

"God, hurry up," Isabella muttered to the horses as she drove the carriage back on the way towards her home.

She had not even covered a third of the distance, when rain came pouring from the sky in its usual fashion, pelting down the path. This time, it was accompanied by strong winds as well.

Isabella struggled with the reins as the horses became edgy because of the weather. She thought about turning back to the Webbers' place, but manoeuvring the horses was a tough task as it was, so she carried on trying to reach home. She held on to the reins and wilfully kept going. She soon passed the halfway mark to her home, which made her feel a little better about the situation.

However, all her progress was for nothing. Her heart sank when she saw a fallen tree laying across the road. There wasn't any way she could get past this; it blocked the path completely. It was a massive tree, which meant that it couldn't be removed by lifting or dragging. The only solution was to cut the tree into several pieces and then remove the pieces separately. Isabella stared at the tree, disgruntled. She knew that help wouldn't reach her before morning.

The rain was coming down harder now, looking almost milky due to the sheer volume of water. She couldn't see ahead, while the nervous horses didn't help either. Isabella tried to manoeuvre the carriage around. There was no other option for her except for making her way back to the Webbers. The horses neighed defiantly, not moving from their place. Isabella grew more and more panicky by the second, her hands shaking with the effort of pulling the reins. After a few minutes of trying, she gave up, exhausted and frustrated. She scrambled down from her ride and tied the rein to a nearby tree. On pure impulse, she decided to make her way back home on foot.

She lifted the skirt of her dress up and started stomping through the trees. With the rain and the darkening sky blurring her vision, she couldn't keep track of her direction. Yet, she had to keep going, she had to get back to Charles.

She trudged though the forest, trying to find the path that led back to her home. After about an hour of moving through the labyrinth of Sitka spruces and hemlocks, she knew that she had lost her way. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt completely lost and lonely. She leaned on a tree and rested her tired legs.

Isabella cursed herself for being so imprudent… for not noticing the approaching dark. She didn't want her uncle venturing out in this weather, looking for her. The dark woods looked like a colossal monster to her, spreading its arms to capture her. She tried to suppress her fears, but each passing minute made it worse for her.

After a while, the heavy rain turned into a drizzle, improving the visibility, but only slightly, as the darkness of the evening slowly took over the forest. Isabella gathered herself up and started walking again. She wasn't going to give up.

Walking a few metres ahead, she suddenly saw something that didn't look like a natural part of the forest. It was a man-made structure. As she approached the building, its form appeared more and more familiar to her.

When she negotiated the path that led towards its entrance, she immediately recognised it. It was Mr. Masen's stone mansion. Isabella was so glad to see a familiar place that she almost jumped with joy, alas her limbs felt frozen in the cold weather. She hobbled towards the main door and leaned on it, catching her breath.

* * *

The evening was young and suddenly very calm as the violent storm which had been raging for more than an hour finally dissipated. Edward was sitting in his music hall, playing the piano for his own pleasure. He often played on nights when he didn't need to go hunting. Playing it all through the night wasn't much. He found it convenient that no one would disturb him during this time.

He was leisurely moving his fingers along the keys, lost in the sound of the melody, when a loud knock on the main door broke the charm and upset his rhythm. He growled in anger and shot up from his seat.

Who in his right mind would want to disturb him at this hour, he wondered. He concentrated on the thoughts of the person outside, but none came back.

How was that possible? He was unable to hear the thoughts coming from this person's mind. His internal turmoil was interrupted by another knock.

Curiosity had now nearly replaced his anger, as he tried once again to read the person's mind. He was greeted with silence again. His face contorted in a scowl as he flashed towards the main door, wanting to see the source of his aggravation.

Within seconds, he was at the door.

As he pushed the door open, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight in front of him. A petite, dark haired girl stood in his doorway with a look of relief on her face.

"M-M-Mr. Masen?" she stammered.

"Yes?" He appraised her from head to toe, appreciative of her soft, _human_ features.

"I-I…," she shivered violently, but continued, "I-I'm Is-s-sabella S-Swan…niece of Ch-Charles-"

"Charles Swan?" He tried to decipher her words, since her thoughts were out of his reach.

She nodded vigorously and smiled faintly, obviously glad that he understood her shaky words.

"I…c-can I come in? I'll explain…I pr-promise," she blurted out between her shivers.

Edward moved aside and gestured for her to come in. She thanked him and shuffled inside. Her sweet scent washed over him as she passed him at the entrance. It was the same scent that had made him ravenous a day before.

His nostrils flared, taking in her delicious bouquet, as venom filled his mouth. She was the sweetest thing he had ever smelled, and she was right inside his manor, in his territory, completely alone with him, and completely unaware of the danger.

* * *

**Read and Review please. Reviews are my own brand of heroin, so puhlease give me a dose!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. Everything Twilight belongs to Ms. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Stalkward shall make an appearance. Can we ever get enough of our beloved Stalkward? NO! enjoy.

* * *

_His nostrils flared, taking in her flowery smell, as venom filled his mouth. She was the sweetest thing he had ever smelled, and she was right inside his manor, in his territory, completely alone with him, and completely unaware of the danger._

* * *

Isabella was shivering from head to toe. Her clothes were completely soaked and her wet hair was plastered to her head.

The cold was getting to her, making her mind a little fuzzy. She could barely keep herself upright; her body was giving up. She leaned on the wall of the corridor to steady herself and glanced back at Edward, who looked nonplussed.

She followed his gaze, which was fixed on the floor, where her dirty boots had left muddy trails. The sight of her dirty boot prints on the exquisite marble flooring made her cringe. She started thinking about an apology, but words weren't forming clearly in her head, everything was jumbled up.

Edward, on the other hand, wasn't even remotely concerned with the floor or the dirt marks. His mind was elsewhere, lost in his own dark thoughts.

Isabella's scent had been so powerful, that he couldn't think of anything else for a few seconds. His mind had taken a cue on its own, producing the many scenarios under which he could kill her and drink that sweet nectar she possessed. Her silent mind was the only thing that kept him frozen in place. He was mentally debating with himself on whether to kill her immediately or to keep her alive until he got to know why he couldn't hear her.

"I…I'm s-sorry. Uhh—I'll-I'll clean that up for you," she stuttered, finally drawing the words out.

The sound of her sweet voice brought him back from his nearly deranged state of mind. It was some how able to break through the enchantment that had him entranced.

He raised his eyes and looked at her. She looked frail, as though she would break into a thousand pieces at any moment. Her eyes were half closed, and her pulse was weak.

A weak pulse was not a very appetizing set-up for him. He liked the racing pulse better, with adrenaline pumping the blood straight into his welcoming mouth.

_There would be no pleasure in having to suck it out of the prey, it would kill the thrill of the hunt,_ he thought, as his eyes sized her up.

Suddenly, her legs started to give way and she slumped downwards on to the floor. This prompted him to rush to her side.

He raised her back on her feet, supporting her weak frame with his strong arms. Her sweet scent caused his throat to burn with thirst again. It called to him, coaxing him to take a bite. In a moment of sheer weakness, he lowered his head to her neck and nuzzled it, tracing her jugular vein with his lips. He pulled her body closer to his own, trapping her small frame in his arms as his lips started to suck on the creamy skin of her neck. He was ready to bite her, when a violent shiver shook her whole body and brought him back to his senses. He loosened his grip on her and immediately stopped breathing. It was easier for him to handle this situation by not breathing at all.

"Isabella, are you all right? Isabella… Miss Swan?" He lightly patted on her cheek to make her respond, but she just shook her head and remained silent. Her eyes were now fully closed and her pulse was getting weaker. She was fainting.

Without wasting another precious moment, Edward swiftly lifted her in his arms and carried her to the main hall.

He laid her on the sofa that was nearest to the fireplace and hurriedly kindled the fire. It was a good thing that he always kept the firewood ready inside the fireplace, it proved to be helpful in this peculiar situation.

The firewood popped and crackled, sending its heat in her direction. He brought a few blankets from the guest room and covered her in them.

He was desperately trying to warm her body, as he didn't want her to die.

_It would be such a grave misfortune if her sweet nectar got cold. That would be like…utter wastage of a vintage wine, _he mused as he observed her.

He could detect the change in her condition now, it was getting better, but just so. He tried to think of any other way that would make her warmer and speed up her recovery.

Slowly, he bent down and lifted the blankets off her body. He saw that her clothes were wet, and realized that this was the reason behind her slow recovery. His hands slowly came up to the buttons of her dress, but then, like a reflex action, they pulled back.

_How am I supposed to undress a woman? That too, without her getting the knowledge of my actions._ His mind was reeling with confusion.

As he struggled in his mind, he felt her stirring beneath him. He moved back a bit and looked at her.

She gave a violent shiver and then went limp again. She needed to get warmed up, fast.

He rejected every other thought in his mind, and went for her dress buttons again. Her corset prevented further access to her dress, so he loosened it first, and then unbuttoned her entire dress. It was an arduous task for him, taking the layers of clothing off her body.

When he was down to her inner-garments, he stopped, and glanced at her. The view in front of him was something he had not anticipated. In truth, it was his own reaction to her body, which he had underestimated.

He stared at her, bewitched by the delicate perfection of her curves. Her chemise clung to her soft body and outlined its every crest and trough. It was probably the first real instance that he had stopped and appreciated a woman's physical beauty, and he enjoyed every moment of it.

Her body shuddered once more, and he quickly covered it up with blankets again. He drew himself back and away from her, sighing deeply. That was a wrong move, as it brought the dizzying scent of her blood back to him.

He exhaled quickly and backed away.

_It's controlling me! I cannot think properly whenever her scent hits me. I can't be so weak, it's pathetic. I'm the one who decides to kill the prey, not the other way round. The prey cannot command me to kill. My control is superior, and it will not bow down to any smell, no matter how sweet or mouth-watering it is. _Edward prattled away inside his brain.

He looked over at Isabella again, keenly observing her condition. She was much better now, and her pulse was returning to its normal pace. She was now sleeping peacefully under the comfort of the warm blankets.

He picked up her damp clothes and took them outside to dry. After coming back, he left her clothes in the guestroom and then retreated back to his room.

Edward paced back and forth inside his room, mulling over the strange situation. He had much to consider here. She was no ordinary human. He couldn't hear her mind, and it wasn't because she was lacking it, she was simply out of bounds. This intrigued him as well as irked him at the same time.

Her scent was enough to render him powerless, and that bothered him. He had worked hard to control and channel his thirst, and he was proud of himself. He didn't like feeling helplessly thirsty in her presence; it made the thirst appear stronger than him.

_I'm not a slave to my thirst. I'm no Jasper. Carlisle was able to rein in his thirst, therefore, I can do that as well. I can do better than that. I can drink human blood and still be immune to its effect, _he concluded in his mental monologue.

Another thing that he had to consider here was that Isabella was no stranger. She was a relation of Charles Swan, his employee and his best liaison man. He was an asset to his business, and the best thing about him was that he kept his distance. He knew what Charles thought of him, and he knew that Charles's conclusion about him wasn't all incorrect. It just didn't matter. Despite his suspicions, Charles remained loyal to him. That mattered most to Edward.

_I can't just go ahead and kill his niece on a whim. That would be a blow to the man's loyalty,_ thought Edward.

"Besides, she looks too tempting to throw away like that," he blurted to himself, his mind racing back to the grand hall, to her luscious body.

Once again, he found himself on the verge of losing control of his senses. This time, though, it was her body that did him in, not her scent.

It upset him, to be weak in any form or way, and seeing himself react to that girl in such ways made him feel weak. He decided not to consider her in any way whatsoever, because every way led to the same consequence—his destruction.

After a few hours, he heard Isabella stirring and squirming on the sofa. He could gauge that she was about to wake up.

* * *

Isabella tried to open her eyes, but they weren't obeying her. She felt extremely tired and her body ached badly. Finally, after much struggle, she wearily opened her eyes.

The sight that greeted her was unfamiliar to her. She didn't recognise the room or the furniture; she couldn't recognise anything in there. Panicking, she got up hurriedly and looked around the room. It was huge and lavish, with exquisite furniture and tapestry. Such opulence was alien to her, thus, it left her perplexed.

She walked toward the end of the hall, where a long corridor began. Her mind clicked and she recognised the corridor. She was still caught up in the haze of weakness, and couldn't remember the events of last night clearly. However, she definitely remembered knocking on the door of Mr. Masen's mansion.

"Good morning Miss…Swan." The end of his sentence came out as a sigh, as Edward struggled to keep his lust at bay. She was standing there in his hall, in nothing but a flimsy chemise.

Isabella whirled around and saw him standing at the end of the curved staircase. She noticed a strange smirk on his face, and wondered what might have amused him.

"I suppose it would be better if you get dressed, we don't want you to get cold again. There's a guest room straight ahead." His smirk grew as he spoke.

Isabella blushed profusely as she realised the state of her undress. She had been so preoccupied with her surroundings that she forgot check her clothing in the process.

Edward turned around and went upstairs, giving her some privacy, along with giving himself some peace of mind.

Isabella found her clothes inside the guest room. They appeared to have been dried, but in a haphazard way, as though they were left to dry in a whirlwind. She quickly put them on, coming out of the guestroom fully dressed. Her blush hadn't gone away, as she was still feeling embarrassed.

She was shuffling around in the hall, searching for her boots, when Edward came back.

"Looking for these?" He pointed to the pair of boots that he held in his hand; her boots.

She nodded and walked towards him, feeling painfully shy and embarrassed.

He handed the boots to her and observed her closely as she started putting them on. Her blush was making it difficult for him to control his thirst.

_This is just foolishness. I should just do the deed. No one will ever know. I'm sure no one expected her to land here in the first place. I won't be the target of any suspicion. Fate has literally dropped her in my lap, like a gift that I had always wanted…the sweetest blood…the finest wine. _His thoughts were going haywire again.

He took a step towards her, planning out his attack.

She was completely oblivious to his approach, struggling with the boots, as her weak hands were not able to grip the leather properly. Her struggle made her chest heave, and Edward definitely didn't miss that. Even though her dress was a modest one, being in a bent forward position lowered the neckline. That gave him a fleeting view of her cleavage. Seeing her feminine curves did him in, eradicating all his plans of attacking her right there.

He crouched down in front of her and pushed her hands away, easing her delicate foot into the boot effortlessly. He repeated the same with the other foot, swallowing the venom that was flowing into his mouth.

"I thought ladies liked their shoes more feminine." Edward smirked at her again. He was trying to make light conversation to get to know her better, just to keep his mind off the bloodlust.

"They—umm—they're better, more comfortable to move around in," she replied, looking at her boots. She then peeked at her dress, which had been ruined by the rain. It was one of the dresses that her uncle had bought her in Port Angeles.

The thought of Port Angeles brought back the memories of yesterday, of Charles.

"Oh God…," she whispered to herself, thinking about Charles.

"Pardon?" Edward felt annoyed for the fact that he couldn't hear her thoughts.

"My uncle… he was expecting me…yesterday. I-I couldn't make it back home…because my carriage got stuck in the rain—I got lost and came here," she blurted out in a hurry, her voice shrill. She was panicking with the thoughts of her uncle being worried sick about her. She needed to see him, as quickly as possible.

"I'll take you home. But first, you need to eat something. Your body is suffering from weakness, therefore I suggest that you have breakfast here, and then go home," he said, making his way toward the kitchen.

"No, no…I'm fine, Mr. Masen. I just want to go home; I'm worried about my uncle. Please, just take me home. I'm already indebted by your kindness. Thank you for taking me in last night." She tried to dissuade him from the breakfast invitation.

"Miss Swan, I don't think that your uncle has told you much about me, but I must tell you this…I don't take 'no' for an answer," he said sternly, still smirking at her. Though, he was smiling, the tone of his voice sent chills down her spine.

Edward was trying to make her stay longer. He knew that he shouldn't, but something inside him made him do it. He wanted to observe her, to probe her, to pry every little bit of information out of her, since he couldn't read her mind. Along with that, her silence brought with it some new experiences, like the refreshing feeling of noiseless, pure and unadulterated peace. It was a strange experience, her thoughts not interrupting his own.

She followed him inside the kitchen, in total silence. He asked her about her preferred meal, checking the pantry for supplies. He was mentally cursing himself for not planning beforehand.

"Just anything, I don't have any preference. Please don't trouble yourself, Mr. Masen." She desperately wanted to get out of there, to see Charles. Besides her personal reasons for wanting to leave, something didn't feel right to her about this place. Even the kitchen looked barren and unused, as though no one ever cooked anything there, which was strange.

He couldn't find anything in the kitchen, since he didn't use it at all. Nevertheless, he was determined to keep her with him a little longer. He brought her back to the grand hall and told her to wait for a few minutes.

Edward dashed towards the nearest homestead and brought back a freshly baked cake, and home cooked eggs and bacon.

"How did you manage it? Where did you…?" She was perplexed by his ability to bring breakfast out of nowhere.

"I have my ways, now eat." He smiled at her, thinking about how he had bribed the family at the homestead.

She ate in silence, feeling extremely uncomfortable under his steady gaze.

_There's something anomalous about him. He looks so pale and tired, as though he hasn't been sleeping properly. And his eyes…I've never seen anyone who has maroon eyes. What a strange color. He's exceptionally handsome, though, but he gives off an eerie feeling,_ she thought, meeting his gaze a few times.

"What are you thinking?" He couldn't contain his curiosity.

"Umm…," she tried to conjure up an answer, "that the breakfast is really good…delicious." She averted her gaze. Her heartbeat increased; she wasn't a very good liar.

"What are you actually thinking?" He smirked, hearing her erratic heartbeat.

"Why are you not eating?"

His gaze hardened at her question.

"I'll eat later. I usually have my breakfast around nine O'clock. Leaving that aside, please do tell me, why were you alone yesterday? Why did you not have a chaperon with you?" He tried to change the topic.

"I…my uncle wasn't feeling well, he needed the rest. So, I went on my own," she replied, looking down.

"And where were you going?"

"I was coming back from a social gathering…at the Webber residence."

She got up, collecting the plates, but he stopped her and took the plates from her hands.

"Do not worry about this; I'll take care of it. The house-cleaning maid will be here soon. Now, let me take you back to your beloved uncle." He forced a smile on his lips and gestured for her to follow him outside.

"So, what happened to your carriage?" He asked her as they sat inside his horse car, bigger and more luxurious than her uncle's.

"Honestly speaking, I have no recollection of where exactly I left it last night. It was dark and the rain made it difficult to see anything. I just remember the part where I tied the horses to a tree. I think I was on the path only…" She tried to recollect the events of last night.

"I will check up on that for you." With that, he turned and pulled at the reins.

Isabella sat in silence as the carriage moved in the direction of her home. She looked at him, keenly observing him while his back was turned toward her. She had noticed many things about him by now.

_He has an air of confidence, akin to being superior. His whole persona is so overbearing and somewhat daunting. He looks young, so may be…being successful and rich at such a young age has made him like that. I wonder..._ She processed about him in her mind.

Another thing she noticed was the way the horses were behaving. They appeared to be nervous, with their heads shaking constantly, as if trying to run in a different direction, but they weren't misbehaving like her horses. They galloped along the path in a disciplined manner, and were easily being manoeuvred by him. She wondered if the horses also felt the same unease around him that she felt.

* * *

Isabella ran towards her house in haste, calling out to her uncle. Her legs felt wobbly and weak, but she ignored it.

Charles was sitting in the drawing-room, tired and weary. He had been searching for his niece since early morning, with no luck.

Suddenly, Isabella's voice broke through the walls of the room, lifting his heavy heart and low spirits.

She rushed to him and gave him a tight hug. She was awfully relieved to find him there, safe and fine.

"Isabella! My child! Where _were_ you? I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I'm so sorry Uncle…I'm so, so sorry…I had been careless. I didn't pay attention to the time and got caught up in the storm last night." Tears welled up inside her eyes and her voice cracked.

"Oh god! Issy…everything is fine now. You're safely back home. Thank God for that." Charles breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good to see a family reunion." Edward stood in the doorway, looking quite pleased. The emotional fragility of humans amused him.

"Mr. Masen?" Charles was shocked to see his employer at his doorstep. Visiting people, even his own relatives, wasn't a habit of Edward Masen.

"Oh, Mr. Masen! I'm so sorry! I completely forgot..." Isabella trailed off.

"It's fine, Miss Swan, I understand," he said, reassuring her that he wasn't mad at her for ignoring him. He looked at Charles and continued, "Charles, take good care of her. I believe she is still weak."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Masen. But how…?" He looked at Isabella, confused.

"A fallen tree had blocked my way and the horses weren't behaving, therefore I tried to walk back…but I lost my way and then stumbled upon a trail that led to Mr. Masen's residence. He…he took me inside and saved my life." She tried to give a concise account of her ordeal.

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Masen. You saved my niece and brought her back. You've been so kind to me…always. I feel extremely indebted to you, and really don't know how to repay you." Charles expressed his gratitude.

Edward nodded. "Perhaps," he said, as his gaze shifted to Isabella and then back to Charles, a wicked smile growing on his lips, "you will be able to repay me some day."

With that, he bid farewell to them.

* * *

"Issy?" Charles knocked on her door.

"Yes, Uncle, come in…it's open," she mumbled sleepily as she sat up in her bed.

"How are you feeling now?" He enquired as he came inside and sat in the chair beside her bed.

"I'm fine, Uncle, feeling just a little lethargic, but it's nothing, really." She didn't want him to needlessly worry for her.

He nodded, but his face still held a grave and weary expression.

"I'll never be so careless again. I let you go alone, and I cannot stop cursing myself for it. I've been a bad father…," he trailed off, looking away.

"No, Uncle, it's not so. Please, don't think like that. If anyone was at fault, it was I. It was very imprudent of me to not leave when the sun was still up. I would have reached safely…," she said, looking at her hands, feeling guilty.

"Issy, you must have been very engrossed, it happens, dear. Don't blame yourself. You needed to have a chaperon with you, and I failed to fulfil that part."

"Uncle, please, just stop blaming yourself," she said, looking at him pleadingly.

"I'll stop if you stop as well." He gave her a wan smile and patted her head affectionately.

She smiled back at him, and nodded weakly, feeling relieved at seeing him smile again.

"I must go and make dinner now," she said, getting up from her bed.

"You don't need to, Mrs. Webber came today, while you were resting, and she brought the dinner. She knew you would be tired." He gestured for her to sit back on the bed.

"Oh, that's so thoughtful of her. I must thank her for it."

"Yes, I thanked her, and I'll take you to the Webber residence tomorrow."

Later, they went downstairs to have their dinner.

"Umm…Issy?" Charles broke the silence as they ate.

"Yes, Uncle?"

"How was Mr. Masen…I mean, how did he react when he saw you? How did he treat you?"

"Uhh, well, I don't remember much, as I was feeling extremely tired and weak; I think I fainted at his doorstep. Nevertheless, he was…very kind towards me. In the morning, he brought me breakfast as well…I think he's a very kind person." She indeed felt indebted. Even though she was somewhat taken aback by Edward's overbearing nature, she couldn't deny the fact that he had, in fact, saved her life.

"Yes, he's a kind man. He has always been very generous towards me. I only asked because…because he doesn't like people visiting him, and at such odd hours, he must have been a bit annoyed, I assume. But he saved your life, nonetheless." Charles wanted to end the conversation now. He didn't feel like sharing his fears with his niece. He was indeed very glad that Edward had brought his niece back in perfect shape.

"Yes." Isabella couldn't think up any other response. She had been able to see that fleeting emotion of worry on Charles's face, and wondered what might be bothering him.

She got up and started collecting the utensils.

"Issy, leave it, I'll do it tonight. You need to rest." He gestured for her to go to her room. She sighed and nodded reluctantly, wishing him goodnight as she made her way to her room.

* * *

Isabella was struggling against it. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. The green of the forest had engulfed her completely, it was suffocating her.

She felt trapped, unable to see anything clearly, weariness obnubilating her vision. The only things she could see were the thick green vines that had her in a chokehold.

Suddenly, the vines took shape of a pair of hands. The hands felt cold, almost freezing. They didn't let go of her, instead, they pulled her backwards. She felt a hard body behind her. The hands pulled her closer to the body, tightening their grip on her. She tried to turn around, but couldn't, as the hands held her firm and she couldn't.

She struggled again, trying to break free, but her attempts proved fruitless. Then, she felt something touching her neck, a pair of ice-cold lips. The lips lightly caressed her skin, nuzzling her neck. She shivered at the touch. The lips parted slightly, and slowly started sucking on her neck. She heard a low groan from behind her, as the lips increased their pressure on her skin.

She felt paralysed, with both shock and fear. Her struggles had ceased.

The hands loosened their grip on her and travelled to her shoulders, tracing her collarbone as if trying to memorize its shape.

A low whimper escaped her lips, as the combined effect of the hands and lips clouded her senses. It felt wrong to her. It was making her feel things she had never felt before. She was afraid of these feelings.

The whole situation petrified her. She wanted to run away, but the cold hands wouldn't let her. She wanted to think clearly, but the icy lips paralysed her brain.

Isabella woke up with a start, startled by the dream. She was breathing heavily and her heart was pounding in her chest. She looked around herself in panic, half-expecting to find the green vines or those icy hands around her. The dream felt too real to her, as though she was experiencing it actually. She was positive that she felt the icy coldness of those hands and lips on her skin.

She climbed out of her bed and went towards her window. She needed some fresh air to clear her head. Peering out of her window, she felt the fear of her nightmare grip her again. The forest loomed ahead in front of her. It looked eerie and haunted, a monster that was waiting for its prey. She shuddered as she thought about her nightmare again and quickly went back to her bed.

She didn't feel like sleeping again, but her tired body caved in. As she drifted back into a deep slumber, a shadowy figure appeared at her window, climbing into her room silently.

Isabella slept soundly for the remainder of the night, under the watchful eyes of Edward Masen.

* * *

**Creepy Edward, hell yeah! Do tell me what you think about his creepiness. Like it or hate it?**

**Read and Review please. Thanks!**

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**A/N:**** ShadeFighting300/ Johana**- I deliberately started out with a longish start, so that the characters could be portrayed properly, as they are not canon. And I love the past, I always wanted to write a fic which was set in the past. Thank you, really appreciated your response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. Everything Twilight belongs to Ms. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Thank you for appreciating my Darkward. I have the constructive criticsm in and tried to make my writing style more flowing. Oh yeah, btw, more stalkward in store there.

* * *

Isabella was sitting at her dressing table, combing her hair, when she heard a knock on her door. She got up and opened the door to see a smiling Angela. She immediately wrapped her arms around Isabella and gave her a warm hug.

"Isabella! I'm so glad to see that you're fine. We were concerned for you yesterday morning when your uncle came looking for you. Thank god you came back safely!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes, I think I was very lucky." Isabella held her hand and brought her into her room.

They chatted for a few minutes until it was time for breakfast.

"You know, Angela, I never expected for you to come here so early in the morning. But, I would like to add that it made me monstrously happy."

"I got up early in the morning just so that I could come over here. I harassed my father until he gave in and brought me here to see you," replied Angela, smiling gleefully.

"I feel bad for Mr. Webber," quipped Isabella, and both of them laughed out loud.

"It's so good to hear angels laughing in the morning. It should be a lucky day for me." Charles waved at them as he entered the dining room and headed for the table.

They sat down and quietly started with their breakfast. Charles was in a hurry, as he had to leave for work. He ate in haste while the girls giggled.

"Yes, yes I know. I'm such a laughing stock these days. Perils of being a busy man," Charles mocked playfully.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, but you looked rather humorous, gobbling away at the food." Isabella let out a sheepish giggle.

Charles laughed affectionately at his niece. After the death of her parents, it was the first time that he had seen her in such high spirits, and it pleased him to no end.

"I shall take my leave now, ladies. Angela, will someone be coming to take you back home? Or shall I…?" he asked.

"Oh no, Mr. Swan. I'm staying with Issy for the remainder of the day. My parents will come to pick me up in the evening," she replied.

Isabella helped her uncle with his coat and gave him his hat. She accompanied him to the door to wish him goodbye, as she did everyday.

"Uncle, it completely slipped my mind… the carriage…I mean, how are you going to commute today?" Isabella was suddenly worried. _If the carriage is not recovered, then we'll have to buy a new one, which would cost a lot. We cannot afford that…_

"Don't worry, Issy. Mr. Webber gave me one of his spare carriages. He told me that I could use it until we found our carriage or bought a new one." Charles gave her a tight smile and headed out of the house.

Isabella looked on as the carriage took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind it.

* * *

Isabella and Angela spent the rest of the morning in Isabella's bedroom, chatting and having a merry time together. Isabella showed Angela her book collection, which wasn't big, but was very dear to Isabella. Her love of books was shared by Angela, who promised to share her books as well.

Moving on, Angela peeked inside her closet, trying a few pieces of jewellery from her mother's jewellery box.

"These are really pretty. You have good taste, Issy." She looked in the mirror, admiring a pendant.

"That's my mother's." Isabella's eyes moistened as she looked at it. The memories of her parents permeated her thoughts and a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Issy…I didn't mean to…please don't cry." Angela's lips quivered as she saw her friend's grief. She hugged Isabella tightly and wiped the tears off her face.

They didn't discuss the matter again.

At noon, Isabella was busy, making lunch for herself and her friend. Angela was doing her bit in helping Isabella.

"You shall be my tutor, Issy. I'm not very good at cooking up a scrumptious meal. You, on the other hand, are a fine cook." Angela hovered over her.

Isabella grinned at her and nodded. "It will be my pleasure, Angela."

They were almost through with the cooking, when they heard a loud knock at the main door. It sounded impatient, as though the person standing outside was in a hurry.

Isabella rushed to the door and opened it in haste. The smiling face of Edward Masen greeted her.

"Greetings, Miss Swan." He tried to sound friendly, but it came out sounding a little strained. Edward was trying to control his thirst.

"Mr. Masen…nice to see you…again. I'm afraid my uncle is not at home. Can I be of any help to you?" She tried to keep herself from stuttering. His intimidating presence always made her uncomfortable.

"Or perhaps, I came to see you? How have you been doing, Miss Swan? I hope your condition has improved. You do look better." Venom pooled in his mouth at the last sentence.

She blushed at his comment and gestured for him to come inside. He tried to avoid staring at her. Her blush was provoking his vampire tendencies, making him extremely thirsty.

"Yes, I do feel better. In fact, I'm perfectly fine now. Thank you for asking." She wondered if he had come all the way just to check on her.

"By the way, I checked on your carriage. It seems like the horses got loose, and thus bolted. Your carriage was found in a dilapidated condition near the main pathway." He saw her face losing its colour at this news.

"Oh…I see." Her head hung low as she tried to come to terms with the bad news.

_It is much better when she becomes pale. _He chuckled wryly as he observed her pale face.

She heard him chuckling, and it bothered her to see that he would chuckle at someone's plight. She raised her eyes to his face, looking a little embittered by his insensitivity.

He studied the change in her expression curiously. Once again, her silent mind proved to be a hindrance.

"But…do not worry. I have brought you a new one…" His lips turned up in a crooked smile.

Isabella stared him, wide eyed. She wasn't sure if she heard him correctly.

He motioned for her to follow him as he stepped outside.

Isabella was stunned to see a brand new horse car standing outside her house. It was bigger than her uncle's and looked quite luxurious. Her head whirled between the carriage and the man who brought it, Edward Masen. She couldn't believe what she saw. Then, turning towards him, she looked at him questioningly.

"You don't believe me?" He was getting better at reading her expressions, just slightly.

"Yes, I mean—no, uhh…Mr. Masen, I don't understand." She wasn't ready to believe that he would give something that extravagant to anyone.

"Why? Is it so hard to understand?" he cocked his head to one side, his expression neutral. "Your uncle works for me. I have known him for some time now and he is a good man. In addition to that, I don't want my business to suffer. Therefore, I had to make sure that his commuting is kept hassle free."

"But…it looks so expensive," she blurted out.

"Yes, it is, but that's not the issue here, Miss Swan. Would you not prefer a more comfortable ride?" He studied her face, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I—who doesn't? But…you didn't have to." She was somehow not very comfortable with Mr. Masen's grand gesture.

"I wanted to," he murmured, gazing at her with fierce determination. "Go and see it from inside. It's all yours."

Isabella averted her eyes from his face and glanced at the carriage.

Suddenly, Angela came rushing out of the house. "Issy! Where are you? You never came back. Who wa—" She stopped midway as her gaze fell upon Edward.

"Angela, this is Mr. Masen. Mr. Masen, this is Angela Webber," Isabella introduced them to each other.

"Oh, Mr. Masen…you were the one who saved Isabella! Thank you so much. Pleased to meet you," she chirped as she looked at him in awe. Although, she had heard of him before, this was the first time that she saw him in person.

"Not a problem." He smiled at her and then looked back at Isabella. "You're giving me a reason to believe that you don't like it," he said, pointing to the carriage.

"Why so?" Isabella frowned, confused by his comment.

"Because you aren't showing any enthusiasm for it. I was hoping to see your face brightening up at the idea of a new horse car, but alas…" he replied, showing his disappointment through a frown.

She blushed again at his last comment and looked down. "No, Mr. Masen, I'm very happy to see it. It will certainly assuage my anxiety for my uncle's commuting problems."

Angela observed them curiously as they approached the new carriage. She smiled as she saw their interaction. She decided to convey her thoughts on it later, when she would be alone with Isabella.

Isabella climbed into the carriage to appreciate its interior, while Edward remained outside. He didn't want to risk his self control. Being with her in a closed space would envelop him in her scent and make it hard for him to resist.

Isabella didn't know what to say. It was as though she was tongue-tied. The interior of the carriage resembled his carriage's interior.

"It is very pretty from inside, very luxurious…and comfortable," she said, poking her head out of the window, her blush deepening. "Thank you."

"I'm glad that you approve of it. My job is done." He flashed his crooked smile again.

Edward helped her climb out of it, holding her hands in his. A strange sensation coursed through him as he held her hands. He was wearing gloves, but they weren't enough to stop the sensation from spreading like a heat-wave. He wondered how it might feel to hold her hands without the gloves.

She felt the sensation as well and immediately pulled her hands from his. She couldn't understand this strange vibration, and it perturbed her.

"How will you go back?" Isabella tried to lift the strange tension that had developed between them.

"My carriage will be arriving shortly," he replied. As he said that, another carriage arrived, stopping near the new one. "And here it is."

Edward wished her goodbye and waved at Angela as he climbed inside his carriage.

Angela came up behind Isabella as the carriage disappeared into the distance.

"Issy, let us go inside. We have lunch to finish." She giggled.

* * *

"Isabella, this is Mr. Crawford. Mr. Crawford, this is Isabella Swan," Mrs. Webber introduced the two. Isabella was at the Webber residence again, visiting Angela a week after her ordeal in the storm.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir." She curtseyed and smiled at him.

Henry Crawford smiled back at her, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it. Although, it was a normal gesture, his mouth lingered on her hand a little longer than required. It made her feel uncomfortable, but she ignored it, blaming her own social inexperience for such a reaction.

"More than pleased to meet such a fine young lady like you, Miss Swan. I haven't seen you here before." Henry eyed her greedily. Meeting with appealing young maidens always pleased him. Isabella, in particular, held his attention, even though she was younger than his usual taste.

"I'm new here. I came here to live with my uncle, Mr. Charles Swan." She pointed at Charles, who was sitting on the other end of the living room, chatting with Mr. Webber.

"Oh, I see. What about your parents?" He wanted her to keep talking to him.

"They… they died…in an accident," she replied, looking down to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes.

"I'm extremely sorry, Miss Swan. I probably shouldn't have asked. Losing one's parents at such a young age…it must be so hard for you." Henry tried to look apologetic.

"I think seventeen is not that young." She desperately wanted to change the topic.

_Seventeen…still a blossoming flower. Oh, the pleasure it would be…to be the first one to touch and claim it._ He sighed at the thought.

"Seventeen? But you appear much more mature and responsible. You act older than your age, Miss Swan." He wanted to say more, but he knew that it would come off as being too familiar, too soon.

"Umm, yes, I believe I'm an old lady in actuality, my age just being a façade." Her sarcasm made him laugh, and she felt slightly pleased with herself.

_I can actually make a conversation and be good at it as well. This is encouraging._ She tried to imagine herself as a fine hostess, the one who wasn't afraid of crowds, laughing and conversing with strangers eloquently.

"I must tell you that you have a biting sense of humor, Miss Swan. I—"

"Issy! Come with me. I want to show you my new drapes…" Angela interrupted him. She knew all about him and his womanizing ways, and wanted to keep Isabella away from his hawkish eyes.

He wasn't pleased with Angela's interruption, but he smiled nonetheless. Isabella looked at him guiltily, begging for his forgiveness as Angela whisked her away.

"Well, I believe these are the same drapes that I saw the last time. Where are the new ones?" Isabella stroked the soft fabric of Angela's bedroom drapes.

"They're not here…because they don't exist." Angela laughed nervously.

Isabella raised an eyebrow at her. She wondered what that meant.

"Issy, just listen to me…Henry Crawford is not a very noble man. He is a distant relative of my father, and that's why we try to ignore his womanizing ways, but that doesn't mean that I would throw you to the wolves. Stay away from him, Issy. I took you away because I saw him looking at you…in that way. You know, as though he wants to ravish you. I decided that it would be better if I demolished his plan before it even formed in his evil head. I would have been really glad…if it was someone else admiring you. Like Mr. Mase—umm." Angela saw Isabella's glare and stopped immediately.

"Angela, how many times are we going to have this conversation?"

"Well, I don't know…how many times do _you_ want to discuss it?" Angela was relentless.

"I don't want to! Angela, I don't understand you at all. You can see the evil in Mr. Crawford's eyes, but you completely turn blind when it comes to Mr. Masen. Have you ever known him on a personal level?" Isabella didn't understand her unbecoming reaction to Angela's suggestion, but she was certain that some of it stemmed from fear.

"No, I saw him for the first time when he came to gift you the new carriage. But that hardly matters. I could read his expression. You appeal to him immensely, Issy. Why do you want to deny it?" Angela couldn't fathom the reason behind Isabella's evasiveness.

"Why do you suppose that he doesn't view me in the same manner as Mr. Crawford?" Isabella wasn't sure where her argument was going, but she didn't want to submit to Angela's views.

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that he is much, much better than Mr. Crawford."

"Because he looks much better than him? Beauty is only skin-deep, Angela."

"Issy, you think I'm so superficial? I never mentioned his facial attributes." Angela waved her hand at her dismissively.

"Angela, thank you for keeping me safe from the wolves…but really, what makes you think that Mr. Masen is not like that? He could be worse for all you know." Isabella turned and looked out the window, avoiding Angela's insistent looks.

Angela eyed her mischievously. "He looks much too young to be so experienced," she giggled, earning another glare from Isabella.

"Besides," Angela grew sombre as she continued, "he took care of you when you were in need. He could have easily done anything with you, Issy. No one would have come to know about it; since you weren't headed in his direction…you weren't supposed to be with him."

Isabella flinched at her words. Somehow, Angela's suggestive version of Edward Masen seemed too befitting to be denied. She could easily imagine him doing all that. "But he didn't…"

"Yes, that's what my argument is. Why do you view him so pessimistically?" Angela turned Isabella's face toward her.

"I don't know, Angela. He…there's something very bizarre about him. I feel very ill at ease around him. He is so intimidating; it's almost tangible." Isabella averted her eyes from Angela and looked back at the window.

"This means he's very sure about everything he does. A man ought to be like that. I don't think that he was trying to intimidate you. Instead, I thought he was trying to convince you, in a very persuasive manner, that is." Angela beamed at her, feeling a little smug at her own line of reasoning.

"As you say, Angela, as you say…" Isabella was done with this argument for now.

* * *

Edward sat at his piano again, playing nothing in particular, just stroking the keys with his long fingers. He wasn't focused on playing. His mind was elsewhere. He was trying to pull himself together, to distract himself from the phenomenon called Isabella Swan. He didn't want to go to her room again. He felt it was beneath him to do so, since he could find any other prey at a better location.

_I creep into her room every night but cannot make myself actually do something. What does that make me? I could have redeemed myself by biting her, but I didn't! What is WRONG with me? What is it that I want? _

He felt tormented, tortured by her, but was not ready to admit that.

_No human has ever been able to captivate me like this. I cannot hear her thoughts, but why does it matter so much? I'm sure that she is as dull and uninteresting as any other human._

His hands slammed on the piano keys as he found himself immersed in the memories of that fateful night again. He couldn't forget the way she smelled, even better with the dampness of her hair; the way her chemise hugged her curves; her petite little frame that begged to be held; the softness of her creamy skin. A loud growl escaped from his throat, and he finally gave up.

He ran towards her house and crawled into her room with ease.

There she lay, in her bed, stirring and squirming, restless in her sleep. She was having nightmares again.

He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. It burned his throat, but he expected that and was ready to deal with it. He stared at her sleeping form again, a million scenarios going through his head.

Her head whipped from one side to the other, and her hands gripped the sheets. She was kicking with her legs, pushing her blanket down. As the blanket moved lower, her body was uncovered for him. She was wearing a white nightgown, which gave her an angelic glow in the moonlight. Her chest heaved as she struggled in her nightmare, pushing her breasts out. His gaze shifted to her chest, and he bit back a growl. She looked irresistible, in every way he could fathom. Nevertheless, he knew that having her in one way meant leaving the other one out. He could either have her body or have her blood, not both.

Edward took a step towards her bed, trying to make up his mind. He inhaled her scent again, taking gulp after gulp of the sweet freesia-lavender scent she possessed.

His bloodlust overtook his carnal lust.

_Charles will be fine, I'll make sure of it. He never had a proper family, therefore, he'll survive. The grief shall be brief. I'll pick her up right now and take her into the woods…no one will be any wiser.' _He gripped the bedpost as he thought out the entire plan to have his most coveted meal.

"Ice cold… mhhh—ughhh," she mumbled in her sleep, taking him by surprise. He looked at her cautiously, to see if she had awoken, but found her sleeping. She whimpered and moaned, mumbling incoherently. Her voice pleased his ears, and he found himself wanting for more.

Something inside him snapped.

Edward wanted her. He wanted to hear her sweet voice everyday. He wanted to feel that glorious body, every inch of it. He wanted to possess her, completely. Letting go of her blood meant leaving the finest wine, but he was ready to bargain that for the rest of the pleasures she presented.

She gasped in her sleep, her chest rising and falling. He wanted to touch her, skin on skin.

_What would it feel like...to touch her luscious body in every way possible? Those perfect womanly curves, how would they feel in my hands?…she's so sinfully appealing. _Edward let out a stifled groan at the thought.

He wanted to be around her, to see her every day. However, he knew that his thirst control was very frail whenever she was around. Another hurdle to being near her was the presence of other humans. He knew he couldn't be in close proximity to humans for long. There were many issues with that. Combining effect of their smell with Isabella's scent would threaten his control precariously. Then, the fact that someone might notice too much about him. His eyes always turned a lighter shade when he hunted. Thus, they would appear as deep burgundy after a fresh hunt. He couldn't let a human see that; it might raise a few suspicions in their minds.

She whimpered again, bringing him out of his stupor. He walked across the room and stood beside her bed, trying to understand her allure, but it was something that had evaded him altogether.

_Maybe I just need to release my carnal urges._

That thought took him back to Tanya, the femme fatale of the Denali coven. She was a friend of Carlisle and often visited him during her trips to England. She had always tried to gain Edward's affections through physical gratification. He remembered the time when he had spent a night with her, taking what she had offered to him for years. He could only describe it as a bad experience. Edward couldn't bring himself to enjoy it, because the constant mental chatter of Tanya disturbed him. He was unable to feel any bond whatsoever. After that night, he was convinced that such experiences were not meant for him because he had the bane of mind reading. He never tried it again with anyone else because he knew that the outcome would be the same. He was sure that he was meant to be alone in this existence.

Then, seeing the love between the members of his coven, the Cullens, was like insult to injury. It was the primary reason behind his detachment from them. He couldn't cope with seeing their demonstrations of love around him. His bitterness turned to defiance, and thus, he left the coven. He made sure that he settled as far away from them as possible. He left the lifestyle that Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens had adopted, and became a human drinker.

Drinking human blood caused immense relief at first, but it affected his thirst control. Namely, it made it much more difficult for him to control his thirst around humans. It was like a bad intoxicant, which gave an extremely pleasant feeling in the beginning, but then caused a headache afterwards. To regain the pleasant feeling, one needed a constant dose of it. Therefore, one became an addict to that substance. It sometimes made him feel empty from within, being nothing but a vampire, a monster. Often, this feeling turned into resentment, and he hunted more often to calm himself. He surrounded himself with all kinds of luxuries to fill the emptiness he felt, but it helped little.

Isabella, however, was able to stir the long buried feelings inside him, without even trying. She mesmerized him. Even though he thought that it all stemmed from the fact that she smelled so incredibly scrumptious to him, a part of him wondered if there was any chance that her body could rival the smell of her blood.

He lowered his head to get a closer look at her. Up close, she looked even more appealing to him. Her beautiful dark auburn tresses were splayed across her pillow, and her lips were slightly parted in the shape of a small pout. His eyes slowly travelled all over her body and then came back to rest upon her neck. He could see the blood pumping through her jugular, tempting him to have a sip. His hand reached out and touched her neck. Feeling the heat of her warm blood, he closed his eyes in pure pleasure. Slowly, his hand clasped around her throat, eliciting a gasp from her. He opened his eyes to make sure she was still asleep. She was.

Growing more confident, his hand slowly travelled down her neck, tracing her warm skin with his cold fingertips. His gaze drifted towards the swells of her breasts, which were rising and falling with each of her breaths. He could see the hardened peaks of her mounds through the gauzy fabric, and the sight rendered him speechless. His hand travelled further down and came to rest at her clavicle. Her breathing hitched, and she moaned again, louder than before. He removed his hand instantly, feeling his control slipping away. Moving back, he noticed that her restlessness had increased. She started thrashing around in her bed. Her eyes flickered. Seeing that she was about to wake up, he dashed out of her room.

She gasped and opened her eyes, finally ending her ordeal. Isabella was having the same nightmare again, where the vines turned into the cold arms of a mystery man. But this time, it was more vivid, and the hands went further than her shoulders or neck. She looked down at her chest, feeling cold. She touched the area between her breasts, and found it to be colder than the rest of her body.

_This is so bizarre. Can a nightmare have such an effect?_

Her breasts felt extremely sensitive, even a slight brush of the fabric of her nightgown sent shocks down her spine. She lifted her neckline slightly, to ease the pressure she felt on her hardened peaks. When she did that, a strange, sweet smell wafted to her nose. She raised the fabric to her nose and inhaled again. It smelled like honey, cinnamon, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. It was an extremely pleasant smell, like an exquisite perfume. It somehow felt masculine to her. That startled her a bit, because there was no way a male could have come so near to her clothes.

_It can't be. The only man who can possibly touch my clothes is my uncle, and that's a far cry. He doesn't even pick up his own clothes, let alone mine. And this is not his smell. I don't think I have ever come across such a smell. It's so distinct, so pleasant…but how did it get on my nightgown? Maybe it's some wild flower from the forest, somehow its smell got into the air and onto my gown? Well…._

She couldn't make herself sleep again because she was sure that the nightmare would return. Instead, she spent the rest of the night reading one of her favourite books, Pride and Prejudice.


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****I think I need to clarify a point here. I haven't read Mansfield Park, therefore I was completely unaware of the character named 'Henry Crawford' in it. My character was certainly not based on that character, although they are very similar. However, apart from the rakishness, they don't have anything else in common. So yeah, no Tinley or Wickham in the future chapters. Besides, that might make it a borderline crackfic. Err…(lol)**

* * *

Charles and Isabella were on their way back from a trip to the local fruit seller.

"Issy, I have some important work pending at Mr. Masen's residence. Would you mind if we make a little trip down there? I mean, I can take you home first if you want… you have the choice." He looked at her expectantly, waiting for a reply.

"Umm—how long will it take?" She stared at the bags in her hands, pondering about the fruits in there. "I don't want these to rot while you work." She took out an apple and traced its shiny skin with her fingers, mentally preparing herself to face the eerie fortress again.

"I don't think they will wilt so fast." He laughed at her.

She made a face, earning another hearty laugh from him. "Fine, I don't mind. But please, Uncle, don't take too long. I tend to get weary. There's nothing to do there. It's tiresome… waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for you."

"It won't take that long. If it does, then I'll send someone to take you home. Happy now?" He shook his head in amusement.

She nodded, sighing heavily. The gloomy mansion always made her feel depressed. She couldn't quite understand its charm. The only thing that she had liked there was the assortment of art that adorned the waiting room. _Some of them are quite old. Mr. Masen must have gotten them from a legacy. Others, well… they must have cost a fortune. But, of course, he can afford it. I suppose being rich comes with such advantages._

Like the last time, Charles left her in the waiting room and went inside to do his work. Isabella immediately walked towards her favourite piece, in which a beach was depicted. She leaned on the wall to get a closer look at it, bouncing the apple in her hand.

"Something interesting in there?" The velvety voice of Mr. Masen resonated inside the room.

Isabella froze in shock, and the apple slipped from her hand. He caught it swiftly and offered it back to her, holding it in his hands like a treasure. "That's a very healthy looking apple."

She peered at him curiously, looking into his eyes. She couldn't whip her eyes away from his now amber ones. Even though it had been weeks since she last saw him, the memory of his maroon eyes wasn't a hazy one for her._ Golden—brown? How…?_

"You want to have it? I'm not feeling hungry anymore," she mumbled distractedly, shocked by his changed eye color.

"No. Apples aren't good for me." He flashed his typical crooked smile at her. "So don't tempt me… I might just take a bite." His smile broadened into a grin, baring his sharp, pearly white teeth to her. He was pleased with the innuendo.

Her gaze shifted to his mouth for a split second, appraising the perfection of his jaw. Realizing that she was literally gawking at him, she averted her gaze from his face, feeling the heat of the blush on her cheeks. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Where else do you expect to see me? It is, after all, _my_ home, Miss Swan."

He cautiously took a step back, swallowing the venom that had collected in his mouth. Her blush always made it difficult for him to control his hunger. However, he could feel the difference this time. It was easier to handle it as compared to the last time.

"I meant… here, the waiting room."

"Perhaps… so, what were you observing in that piece?" He pointed at the painting.

"Oh, I uhh—well, I like this one. I was just looking at the brush strokes. They seem very free and uncontrolled, yet they work a magic into it. After a while, I can actually see the waves moving."

He noticed her enthusiasm and was pleased to know that they shared a love for art. "It's a Monet. He's known for this particular style of painting—_Impressionism_."

Her brown orbs twinkled with excitement as he explained the style. For a few minutes, she completely forgot about the tension she always felt around him.

"I have more art inside. Would you like to take a look?" he offered in a seductive voice. He knew she wouldn't refuse.

She nodded and followed him towards the grand hall, trying hard to fight off the feeling of déjà vu.

His manor was like a small art museum in itself, with all the rooms and halls filled with various works of art that he had collected over the century. Artwork even spilled out onto the walls of the corridors.

Isabella was lost in the charm of his collection, completely oblivious to anything else for a while. She was embracing her inner artist once again.

Edward took this time to observe her instead. He looked at her rich brown hair, the way her tresses came down to her waist in thick waves.

_Silk…_

He wanted to touch it but restrained himself. _She'll not take it lightly, and you don't want to scare her away. There's a time and a place for doing that… her bedroom… at night._ He almost groaned at the thought, overwhelmed by the pleasure it brought.

As they entered yet another room, she became aware of the uncomfortable silence that had taken over. A feeling of apprehension grew inside her. She turned around and found him standing right next to her. His approach had been silent, and it startled her a bit.

"Umm… which room is this?" She struggled to forge a conversation.

"This is my room." He still hadn't moved away from her. "These are my favourites." He pointed at the paintings that adorned the room. The talking eased the tension for the time being.

She looked at his fingers as he explained a piece to her; they were long and beautiful. From his perfect fingers, her gaze travelled up to his face. She was once again reminded of his changed eye color, as she observed him.

_This is so odd. How can a person's eyes change color? I remember the shade they had before, quite distinctly... I'm sure they were maroon—deep red—but now they are golden-orange, I can't put a finger on it. They appear to be changing their shade, like an orb filled with swirling liquid. Never seen such phenomenon before…_

"What are you thinking?" He could sense that she wasn't paying attention to his commentary. He wondered if she had noticed too much about his eyes.

Feeling the full force of his penetrating gaze, she struggled to form an appropriate answer. "That… you have so much art. It's overwhelming."

She didn't want him to catch her lie once again.

He couldn't tell if she was being truthful this time. Her heartbeat wasn't helping; it had been erratic for the past few minutes.

"Hmm…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Most of them, I got from my father. The rest… I bought. I like collecting art."

She eyed him skeptically, wondering what made him so uncomfortable about his admission.

The room fell silent again, and she took a few steps away from him to ease the growing tension. Then, like a God-sent relief, a house attendant came in to give him a message.

"Sir, Mr. Langley has sent for you. He wants to discuss something important." She looked to be in a hurry to go back.

He didn't even look up at her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on one of the paintings. "I'll be there shortly. And…" He snapped his head in her direction this time, giving her a full glare. "Do _not_ barge in like that in the future. Always remember the instructions I gave you." Motioning for her to go, he turned his attention back to the painting.

Isabella gaped at him. She had never seen him courting such an ill temper before. He appeared to have been repelled by the very sight of the woman. Isabella felt fidgety and shaky, wanting to go back to the waiting room. Being in his room had never felt so threatening before.

"You will need to excuse me, Miss Swan. But I assure you that I won't be long." He gave her a tight smile and disappeared out the door.

She breathed a sigh of relief as he left the room. Feeling more freedom to move around, she observed the room more intently now. It was set in the usual style of Edward Masen, with luxurious furnishings and expensive accessories. The bed itself was monstrous in size, with thick cushions accompanying it. Overall, it looked like a model bedroom, perfect in every way.

_Spoiled in luxury…,_ she thought.

She stroked one of the cushions with her hands, trying to imagine how it must feel to sleep in such a comfortable and cozy bed, with silk quilts and soft pillows. The thought immediately brought a blush to her cheeks.

_Well, he's not that bad, is he?_ She was reminded of what Angela had said to her a few days ago, and it embarrassed her.

_Yes, go on. Imagine yourself in the strange man's bed now! ... No, I was just acknowledging his physical attributes. One cannot deny that he's very handsome indeed—Isabella, you're surpassing the limits of your imagination now. He may be good looking, but he's scary otherwise, remember?… Yes, but he has never been improper towards me, like Angela said—Oh, God! Stop thinking on those terms. You should be ashamed of yourself, Isabella. _She mentally scolded herself and moved away from the bed.

Isabella got back to appreciating the paintings in the room, trying to distract her mind from the strange thoughts she'd just had. Upon paying attention to the paintings again, she noticed something that had slipped her detection before. The paintings in his room contained darker and somewhat melancholic themes, as compared to the brighter and livelier ones of the halls. She wondered if it was a conscious decision.

Soon, she grew tired of waiting for him and decided to move ahead and see the paintings in the next room. Besides the curiosity to see the rest of his art collection, there was a nagging feeling inside the pit of her stomach that pushed her to move out of his room. She felt ill at ease, standing in his room, waiting for him, as though she was a captive in there.

The adjoining room, to her surprise, was a library. Being an avid reader, she felt like a child in a sweetshop. She traced the hardbound books with her delicate fingers, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

_This is heaven! I've never seen so many books inside a house. This is like a huge library. Oh, and he has some of my favourite authors… some titles I've never read before. Oh my… _She almost squealed with joy, biting her lip to keep it in.

Her eyes narrowed down on an Austen title—Mansfield Park—and she reached for it. The book was on the highest shelf, therefore, she had to get on her tiptoes and stretch herself to grab hold of it. About the same time as she reached for the book, another hand came up beside hers and retrieved it. She whirled around and collided with the hard frame of Edward, almost toppling over from the impact. His strong arms caught her and held on.

"Be careful, Miss Swan." He steadied her, still holding her close. "You could have waited for me." He didn't want to let go of her; the warmth emanating from her body felt extremely pleasurable to him.

She gasped for air, realizing that she had been holding her breath. Then, like a ton of bricks, it hit her. _His smell… it's the same smell—my nightgown—NO! That can't be! But it IS the same scent!_

Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. She took another breath, drawing the air in slowly. The scent was more powerful this time, almost intoxicating.

"Are you all right?" He asked cautiously, for he hadn't missed her reaction. _Why does she taunt me like that? This is one of those moments where I feel like knocking her head open for the sake of reading her mind!_

"Umm… err." She tried to form a valid response, but the whole situation overwhelmed her, making her feel mentally stunted for a few seconds. "I… uhh—my Uncle must be w-waiting for me." Even Isabella herself couldn't recognise her strained voice; it was as hoarse as a crow.

"No, Miss Swan, he's still working down there. You can breathe easy." He knew that she was trying to evade him again, but decided to be patient with her. "Would you like to read anything from here? I have more of Austen's works. Let me get them for you."

She just nodded in response instead of speaking, knowing full well that her voice would come out as a frog's imitation again. He moved toward the stack again, taking a few books out and handing them to her. She gingerly tucked them in her hands, feeling jittery.

"Oh, and don't worry about returning them in a hurry. Take your sweet time with them. I'm sure you'll like them. Do you want any others?" He tried to coax her to speak again, feeling irritated with her sudden silence.

"No thank you, Mr. Masen. These will do… for now." Her voice came out a little shaky, but she managed not to stutter.

"Well, then, let us go downstairs. Your uncle will be free in about a minute." Charles was winding up his meeting, and Edward could very well hear him. He grasped her arm gently and guided her back to the waiting room.

Charles had just gotten there and was searching for her when they both entered the waiting room.

"I took your niece for an art tour around my house, Charles. I hope you didn't mind."

Edward gave him his best intimidating, yet friendly gaze. He knew that Charles was in no position to have a say, given the fact that he was a mere employee, but he wanted to keep him under tabs nonetheless. He could hear the resentment in Charles' thoughts.

"Not at all, Mr. Masen. I believe you may have saved her from the boredom of the waiting room." Charles wasn't happy to see his niece roaming around the house with Edward, but he tried to cover it up with humor. "We shall now take our leave."

As they settled inside the carriage, Charles turned toward Isabella to have a chat with her. "Issy, can I ask something of you?"

She nodded.

"Could you please keep your distance from Mr. Masen?" His face was grim with concern.

Isabella's face turned pale as she absorbed the expression on her uncle's face. "Why do you say that, Uncle? Is he… bad?" She debated whether to tell him about her encounter with the strange smell on her gown and its relation with Edward.

"No, well, it's just that… he seems strange. I keep my distance as well." He didn't know how to explain his fears to her.

She saw the tormented look on his face and decided to comply. "I will. Don't worry."

* * *

The Webbers were enjoying the dinner hosted by the Swans, and Henry Crawford had tagged along to get close to Isabella.

"I must pay my compliments to your niece, Mr. Swan. She's a fine cook. Kudos for preparing a great dinner, Miss Swan!" Henry smiled at Isabella and then turned his attention to Charles, who was beaming at her. Her resultant blush satisfied Henry. He wasn't going to give up any chance of trapping her under his charm.

She smiled nervously, feeling extremely uncomfortable. She could see the disgruntled look on Angela's face, who wasn't even trying to hide her dislike for Henry.

"I believe a good dinner is completed by good company. That being said, my contribution was only to a part of it. It's your whole family that has made it a great dinner by giving us your company." She gestured toward the Webbers.

"Our pleasure, my dear. Glad that you and your uncle invited us over for dinner. Now, I must reciprocate and invite you in return. Dinner at our place next Friday! Ehh, Charles?" Mr. Webber was in a jovial mood, oblivious to Angela's anger.

"But, dear, we can't." Mrs. Webber gently rested her hand on her husband's shoulder. "We have the Grand Ball at Ford's, remember?"

"Oh! I completely forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me, dear." Mr. Webber patted her hand reassuringly. "So, Charles, how about after the Ball? Saturday evening?"

"Sure." Charles answered by raising a toast.

Angela shifted closer to Isabella, and whispered in her ear, "Issy, I hope you're coming to the Ford's Grand Ball."

"I'm not sure if I want to. Why?" The very notion of facing a huge crowd was enough to deter Isabella, but it wasn't the only thing that bothered her about the ball. She was afraid of dancing, because every time she tried, she floundered. It always resulted in either her partner being injured or her falling flat on her face.

"Issy! It's _The_ Grand Ball!" Angela hissed. "Why not?"

"I don't want to embarrass myself, or my uncle."

Angela looked at her quizzically, trying to decipher the meaning behind her stunted answer. "And how are you going to embarrass yourself there?"

"I can't dance… please have mercy on me, Angela. I can't go to a ball. I'll have to dance at some point, and I cannot handle it well. So, don't even think about it." Isabella could already see herself falling gracelessly mid-dance in a hall full of people.

_And they'll give you disapproving looks all night long for being the clumsiest dancer ever._ She shuddered at the thought.

"Oh, come on, Issy. No one can be _that_ bad. Besides, it's the girl's choice to dance or not, so you can always refuse. Right?" Angela wanted her to attend the Grand Ball. Being her friend, she knew that Isabella needed to socialize.

"What if someone insists? It's not going to be pretty. Angela, I beg of you, don't make me attend the Ball, please." Isabella turned her head away.

Angela poked her side, making her utter a low yelp. "Listen to me, Issy… you _will_ attend the Ball, and I'll make sure you do," she threatened.

"Make me." Isabella put forward her best 'stubborn' face. Deep down, she was a little scared of her friend's determination.

"Mr. Swan, I believe you and Isabella will be attending the Ball?" Angela peered at Charles with an imploring look.

"Well, I personally don't go to such events… since Clara…" He couldn't bring himself to complete the sentence. The loss of his wife still caused a lingering pain in his heart.

"I'm sorry…" Angela was taken aback. A Ball was the last thing that she had expected to bring grief to Charles.

"But… I'm sure Isabella can go." Charles looked at Isabella expectantly.

Angela was elated. Charles had made it too easy for her. "Yes, oh yes, she can!" She turned towards Isabella. "Issy, I'm sure you won't disappoint your uncle?"

"I—but Uncle! No, no—I can't… please." Isabella searched for a valid excuse, besides the embarrassing one that was actually stopping her from attending the Ball.

"Why not, Miss Swan? I'm sure that you'll make the Ball even more special with your presence. If you're afraid of socializing, then I can be your chaperon, to save you from being picked at." Henry was his usual generous self. He was already looking forward to seeing Isabella at the Ball.

"But I thought you were heading back." Angela's eyes narrowed at him. He merely shook his head in denial.

"Besides, _I'll_ be at Isabella's side at the Ball… all the time." She tucked Isabella's arm into hers, a gesture to tell Henry to back off. "I'll look after her. You needn't worry."

"Yes, Issy, you should go to the Ball. Have a good time there. I'm sure you'll like it." Charles knew that the Webbers would take care of his niece; and he wanted to encourage her.

Isabella shrugged and tried to repress the whole issue.

After the dinner, the Webbers--along with Henry--took their leave. Charles escorted them to their carriage, while Isabella busied herself with cleaning up. Upon clearing the table, she noticed that Henry had left his antique timepiece there. She picked it up and ran outside, almost bumping into Charles, who was returning after seeing off the guests.

"What is it, Issy?"

"Uncle, Mr. Crawford… he left his timepiece—I mean, he forgot to pick it up from the table." She showed it to him.

"Oh, it must have slipped his mind. Don't worry, Issy, I'll return it to the Webbers when I go to their place in the coming days." Charles patted her head affectionately. "Keep it in a safe place for the time being."

She agreed and did as he said.

Later, Isabella sat in her rocking chair having a look at the books that Edward had given her. She had read only two works of Austen so far—'Sense and Sensibility' and "Pride and Prejudice'—but she had come to love her writing style immensely. She flipped the books in her hands, having difficulty in deciding which one to read first.

_Emma can wait for the time being. Hmm… Mansfield Park or Northanger Abbey? Can't decide; both look tempting…_

With a deep sigh, she decided on 'Mansfield Park'. After reading it for a while, she broke into a laughing fit, seeing a character named 'Henry Crawford' in it.

_This is beyond humorous. He even appears to be like Mr. Crawford… well, at least, the way Angela describes him. I wonder if Angela has read this book. If not, then I MUST show it to her. Jane Austen could very well be prophetic here._

She kept giggling at the funny coincidence, especially whenever the name 'Crawford' came up in the book. The random giggles kept flowing until after midnight, when she finally put the book down and decided to sleep.

Half an hour later, when she was about to doze off, a sudden realization hit her. Jerking her head up, she glanced at the books on her table. On one side were her own copies of Austen, the only ones she had read, and on the other side were the ones that Edward had lent her—_Emma_, _Mansfield_ _Park_, and _Northanger_ _Abbey_. They were mutually exclusive.

_I had seen the copies of 'Pride and Prejudice' and 'Sense and Sensibility' on the stack… along with these other works of Austen. Yet, Mr. Masen only took these out for me…, _she pondered, looking at the three books she hadn't read_. _

_How did he deduce that? How COULD he guess what I have or haven't read? He can't…_

She sat up in her bed, running her fingers through her hair nervously.

_He cannot possibly know about my literary possessions. Then, how did he instinctively know which ones to suggest to me? He can't, unless… he knows… _Goose bumps rose on her skin at the thought.

_Besides that, he had that same smell on him, the one that I had smelled on my clothes the other day. How can that be? This is so absurd… yet, I know that I'm not hallucinating. My senses aren't so weak; I can detect that smell in a heartbeat. It's unlike any other smell. Much too pleasant… but… _She almost pulled at her hair. Her thoughts were in a frenzy.

_He seems to know certain things… things he isn't supposed to know. But how? And why? Oh, God, calm down, Isabella!_

She rubbed her temples in an attempt to calm her ruffled nerves. It did little good, as the source of her anxiety was somewhere else, out of her control. She reached for the glass of water on her side table. It wasn't magic, but a few gulps did calm her down a bit.

_You're over-thinking. It's not as bad as you're making it inside your head, Issy. He didn't do anything wrong when he was around you. How can you even think on those lines? For heaven's sake, he was the one who saved your life that night… never attempted anything sinister even then. This is all just a big coincidence, nothing else. _She tried to convince herself, but in the deep recesses of her mind, she knew that something was amiss.

She hardly slept that night. The anxiety made it hard for her to relax and fall into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

"Take care, Issy. I'll be back at my usual time." Charles hugged Isabella and left for work the next morning.

As his carriage galloped off, Isabella stood at the door, looking at the grey sky. It looked similar to the day when she got caught up in the awful thunderstorm, hence, it made her feel uneasy.

She went back inside and started working on her incomplete embroidery endeavour. It was a white table-cloth, on which she was trying to embellish patterns of various flowers.

_Endure… I believe the patterns will be ready by the time I'm an old hen._

She wasn't very accomplished at stitching or sewing, but her mother had always made her practice. It held no interest for her, but her mother told her that she'd need it one day. Same was the issue with cooking and cleaning. Isabella did cook well, but she found it completely unexciting.

"_It's an art that every woman ought to know to be a good wife_," she repeated her mother's words, feeling nostalgic again.

She peered out of the kitchen window. The sky was getting darker, and the wind was picking up. The whole scene was disconcertingly familiar to her. Feeling disturbed, she put the cloth aside and went to her room to read. She wanted to distract herself from the ominous weather that had enveloped the whole area of Forks Prairie.

Settling into her rocking chair, she opened her favourite book—'Pride and Prejudice'—and started reading. She was halfway through the page when a faint knock on the door pulled her out of the book.

"Who can that be?" She moved down the stairs tentatively, pondering upon whether she should respond or not.

Another knock greeted her; this time, it was louder.

"Yes, coming!" She hurried to the door. _It could be someone who got stuck in the storm like me… must check._

She opened the door, only to see a very pleased Henry Crawford at her doorstep. He smiled wickedly at her. "Hello, Isabella."

"Hello, Mr. Crawford. I wasn't expecting to see you at this time of the day." It hadn't slipped her notice that he had used her first name.

"I believe you have something with you that belongs to me." He grinned like a Cheshire cat.

She suddenly remembered his antique timepiece. "Oh, yes. I've kept it safely with me. I'll be right back with it."

Isabella rushed towards the teak cabinet in the drawing room, where she had kept the timepiece. He followed her inside quietly, ready to make his move.

"Here—" She gasped as she felt his hands on her waist, gripping her tightly. "Mr. Crawford! What are you—"

"Shhh! Hush, my dear Isabella. You should be quite happy that you've attracted my attention," he whispered in her ear, pushing her forward, his chest pressing into her back. She struggled against him, but he held on. "Look, I brought you a token of my affection." He held her with one hand and dangled a diamond necklace in front of her with the other.

"Mr. Crawford! LET GO OF ME!" She shouted with as much force as her lungs allowed. He pushed her further, bending her over on the wooden chest. "Isabella, it'll be better if you stop the phony struggle and listen to me. I know you like the bauble. You can have it. It's for you only, my darling."

"NO! Get away from me! I don't want it!" she shrieked and pushed the necklace away, angry tears welling up in her eyes. Her bent position made her feel filthy and degraded.

Henry put the necklace back in his pocket and continued, "Isabella, give in… you know you want to." He pushed his body into hers, making her yelp as her body collided with the cabinet.

Resolving to fight him off, she kicked him in the shin, eliciting a groan from him as he staggered back. Seeing this as her moment of escape, she hurried towards the stairs in order to get to her bedroom.

He caught her ankle and tripped her right on the first flight of stairs. She fell and landed on her shoulder. A sharp pain shot through her shoulder as she tried to sit up. He was already pulling her back, his hand on her ankle in a vice-like grip.

"Stop it! PLEASE!" Her strength was no match for his, he was bigger than her slight frame, but that didn't stop her from struggling.

"Oh, what are you going to do? Huh? Stop me? Trust me, Issy, it feels really good once you let go. You'll like it. Heck, you'll come to enjoy it later on, darling. And I'll give you whatever you want. I'll keep you like a princess." He moved on top of her and pinned her down with his weight, dipping his head to ravish her mouth.

She pushed at his chest and turned her head to avoid his lips, but he was unyielding. His lips moved to her cheek, and he bit on it while his hands started roaming over her shoulders, slowly moving downwards to her breasts.

She felt completely helpless, knowing full well that no one could hear her screams for miles. For once, her situation looked completely hopeless to her. She closed her eyes in disgust, hoping for a miracle to save her somehow.

* * *

**Oh no I didn't?...**

**Oh yes I DID! hehe...**

**REVIEWS! They are my apples! whoops! temptation...lol**

**More Darkward coming in the next chapter.**

** (Edward the Sadist) + (Edward the manipulator) = ?**

**(((Watch this space)))**


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

_**Thanks for all the fabulous reviews. I know it was very evil of me to leave it at a cliffy, but it just had to be done. I hope that you enjoy this chapter, as it brings with it the conclusions of that cliffy.**_

_**A formal ****warning** for those who might find it too dark, as Edward the Sadist will make an appearance here. Be afraid, be very afraid..._

* * *

Edward sat in his study, trying to finish off the emergency meeting with Morgan Langley—one of his employees—as soon as possible. He was getting edgy, for he knew the plans of Henry Crawford. He had eavesdropped on the dinner conversation at the Swan residence last night and could very well hear the thoughts that filled Henry's filthy mind.

"That's enough, Mr. Langley. You can tell the rest to Charles later on. I need to take leave now. Something needs my attention immediately," he said curtly as he marched out. He was in a hurry to get to Isabella. _Brainless nincompoop! He couldn't come at a more appropriate time! If not for him, I would've been with Bella right now!_

Once out in the forest, Edward ran towards the Swan residence at his vampire speed. He could only hope that he wasn't too late.

Meanwhile, Isabella's attempts to fight back were proving futile. Tears started flowing from her eyes in a steady stream as she thrashed about beneath Henry. He was holding her in his grasp like a rag doll, his hands moving deftly across her bodice to ease it off her.

"Please! Just stop it! I don't want this!" she croaked, her voice hoarse from all the shrieking.

"Just shut up and take it," he growled. "You will cry my name in pleasure soon, sugar."

"NO!" She pushed at him with renewed vigour, determined not to let him have it easy, "I'm not your whore! You _bastard_!"

"Ah! My darling has a foul mouth?" He tugged at her neckline, ripping the top of her dress, revealing more of her cleavage to him. "You are going to enjoy being my whore!"

She screamed as she felt his hands pulling on her clothes.

"You better give in and get used to this, Issy. You'll give me what I want, and it will be our new routine from now on. I'll be coming to see you every other day."

"Oh, no you won't," replied a deep, velvety voice from behind his back. Isabella immediately recognized it.

Suddenly, the weight of Henry's body was lifted off her, giving her a momentary breath. She blinked a few times to clear her tear-blurred vision. All she could see was Henry's body being smashed against the front wall. She wanted to sit up and make out what was happening, but her whole body was paralyzed with shock and exhaustion.

Then, a menacing growl resounded through the room. It jolted her up and freed her from her shock-induced paralysis. She scrambled to her feet and gripped the banister for support, witnessing the whole scene in front of her.

Edward gripped Henry's throat, holding his body up against the wall. His strength surprised Isabella; she had never considered it before.

Edward stared murderously into Henry's eyes. "If I ever see you around her again, trust me, I'll rip your bloody throat off! Understood?" _Of course you'll stay away from he_r, he thought, _I'll make sure of it._

Henry struggled under his grip, unable to fight him off. "Ughh-unnggh…"

"I said, _understood_?" repeated Edward, his hand tightening around Henry's throat.

Henry nodded weakly as he struggled to remove Edward's vice-like grip on his neck. His legs kicked and dangled uselessly as he gasped and choked for air.

Isabella wanted to tell Edward to stop, but she couldn't bring herself to utter a single syllable. If she found him intimidating before, she found him downright frightening right then.

_Should I intervene?_ She thought, debating internally, _He looks so angry… oh god, but he came to save me. Thank heavens for that!_

She shook her head, trying to unscramble her thoughts. The loud noises from the scuffle brought her attention back to Edward and Henry.

Isabella gasped as she saw Henry's face going pale.

Her frightened gasp alerted Edward, reminding him of her presence. He eased his chokehold on Henry for once. _Now is not the time…_

Edward released him and shoved him out the door. Henry stumbled and fell into the mud but got up quickly and scrambled for his carriage. The impact from the wall had bruised his shoulders, but the fear of Edward was a big motivator to move quickly.

Edward fought the urge to go after him. He knew that Isabella was still there, watching everything, therefore, he turned around to help her instead. I must leave the right impression. She mustn't even have a whiff of my intentions.

Isabella was still standing by the stairs, frozen in fear and awe.

Edward fought back a possessive growl as his gaze fell upon her tear-stricken face. The angry-looking bite mark on her cheek provoked his fury. _That bastard is going to pay for it. How dare he touch her!_

Isabella's chest heaved as she sobbed lightly. Edward's eyes shifted towards her torn neckline, her cleavage shamefully exposed.

She stared at him, completely unaware of her wretched state as the violent sobs continued. Still tense, she didn't move an inch as she saw him approaching. He shrugged out of his coat and closed the distance between them as he flapped it around her. He eased the coat onto her shoulders, buttoning it up from the top to cover her up.

She lowered her head and shuddered as she felt the cold fabric of the coat on her skin. That brought her back from her dazed state of mind.

"Isabella?" he called her by name, and this jolted her a little.

She looked up at him, her eyes still teary, but her expression was grateful.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked pensively.

She nodded weakly.

"Do you need anything?" He wasn't very adept at comforting humans, and he felt a little irritated by her silence. "Say something!"

Isabella jumped at his raised voice. "Th-Thank you…" she trailed off as he touched her inflamed cheek with his cool fingers.

"Are you going to be okay?" He was getting a little impatient.

She nodded again.

"And yes, do _not_ open the door for strangers, understand?"

"He wasn't a stranger…," she sobbed again, remembering Angela's warning. "But I will not be so careless again. Thank you." There was an awkward silence afterwards as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Don't cry now, it's over. Everything is still the same." Edward ran a hand through his hair in frustration, chagrined at her fragility. "Now, listen to me, Isabella, you are not to mention any of this to Charles when he returns."

She looked up at him again, confused. Once she saw his brooding expression, she decided against arguing with him.

"I have to go now. Take care of yourself and be safe," he said curtly, moving away from her.

She stared at him as he left the house, a feeling of gratitude building inside her. She wanted to say a million things to convey her gratefulness, but nothing came out. Breathing a resigned sigh, she closed the door with her shaky hands and went back to her room.

Isabella eased the coat off her body and examined her torn dress in the mirror. She fought back the recurring tears as Angela's warning about Henry echoed inside her head.

"But I am strong enough to handle it," she told herself, looking back in the mirror, "Like Mr. Masen said, nothing has changed… I'm still unharmed. I am not going dwell on the painful memories of today."

_But I do need to see Mr. Masen again, to talk to him and return his coat_, she mused distractedly, remembering Edward's request to not tell anything to Charles. She couldn't understand the logic behind that request.

She discarded her torn dress, hid the coat away in her closet and went to take a bath. The warm water helped her wash the bad memories away.

* * *

Henry was driving his carriage as fast as he could to get away from Forks Prairie. He was convinced that Isabella would raise an alarm about the whole episode, now that there was a witness against him.

_That ghostly pale bodyguard of hers. Who __was__ that?_

"I'll tell you who that was."

Before Henry could react, he was already toppling over. He fell off the carriage, his bruised shoulders hurt badly as he landed on his back and rolled onto the wet ground.

Edward picked him up swiftly with one hand and pinned him against a tree. "We meet again, Crawford. But I'm afraid that this…" he crushed Henry's right foot under his own, "is the last time it will happen."

Henry cried out in pain as he felt the bones of his foot give in to the pressure of Edward's foot.

He clutched his injury and tried to limp away as Edward released him. Edward stood there and watched him, letting him have his final and feeble chance of escaping. He was relishing this game of cat and mouse.

Henry paused for a moment, letting his broken foot have a little rest. Looking over his shoulder, he tried to see where Edward was. The heavy rain made visibility low. He couldn't see Edward anywhere.

Is he gone_?__ Is he hiding?_ he thought frantically as he searched around for Edward. _Will he come after me again? I don't want to die…_

Henry's subconscious told him that he was in grave danger; he could feel the death lurking nearby. He turned his head back and started moving again. He hadn't gone far, when Edward appeared right in front of him.

"In a hurry, are you?" Edward shoved him backwards, making him fall again.

"Who-who _are_ you?" Henry stuttered, fearing for his life.

Edward walked up to him and sat on his haunches. "I'm the one you should never have meddled with."

"I don't even know you!" Panic was evident in Henry's voice as he tried to comprehend Edward's actions.

"You know Isabella, _my_ Isabella! And that qualifies," Edward spoke through clenched teeth.

"Yo-your Isabella?"

"That's right, Crawford. No one touches the things that belong to me. _That_ is your fault, and now, you will be punished for it." Edward's tone was dead cold; enough to send chills down Henry's spine.

_It will be enjoyable, breaking his bones_. Edward smiled as the thoughts crept into his mind. _I won't drink from him, of course. Bella wouldn't like that, would she? I bet she likes my eyes golden. And I wouldn't want to compromise my thirst either._

Henry crawled back on his elbows, trying to move as far away from Edward as possible.

Edward, on the other hand, remained in his position, watching the struggling man in front of him with delight. He smiled viciously at Henry, who slithered in the mud like an injured snake. _It will be a bloodless, bone-crushing death for this filthy swine._

Then, in a sudden move, he sprung forward and grabbed Henry's unharmed foot, breaking his ankle. The resultant cry from Henry was like music to his ears.

"_Jesus_! Arrrgghhh! Hell! You Devil! Let me go!" Henry screamed in pain, cursing at Edward.

Edward stood over him, his hands crossed over his chest. "Enough with the talking, Crawford. Time for the execution." _I wish I could show it to Bella. But she would be afraid of me then. Can't have that happening._

Henry howled in pain as he felt his knees being crushed beneath Edward's feet. His howl was accompanied by Edward's dark laughter.

"Scream, Crawford! I want you to scream the same way you made Bella scream!"

"PLEASE! Let me go! I won't ever mention her name again! Have mercy!"

"Yes, beg, you filthy pig. Did you have mercy on her? Did you? You weren't listening to her pleas, were you?" Edward moved behind him and lifted him up from his shoulders. "So, what makes you think that I'll listen to yours?" he growled in Henry's ear.

A loud cracking noise came from Henry's shoulders as Edward gripped them hard. Henry screamed, more from shock than from pain, his voice cut short with the hoarseness of his throat.

"And something tells me, this isn't the first time you have done something like that to a lady. Huh, Crawford? You are a burden, you know? A bad egg, if you will. Therefore, I must ease the burden," Edward murmured coolly, his peaceful voice contradicting his actions.

Henry's eyes bulged out of their sockets as he felt Edward's hands on his neck. He wanted to move away and run, but he couldn't, having been completely incapacitated.

"Send my greetings to hell, Crawford," he heard Edward whisper in his ear, "Goodbye…"

With a loud snap, Henry's neck was broken.

"Bastards must die," Edward muttered to himself.

He moved from behind Henry's body and came to stand in front of it. He appraised Henry's dead and limp form, enjoying his handiwork.

_Whoever touches my Bella meets the same fate._

* * *

"Umm, Uncle?" Isabella fidgeted about the dining table.

"Yes, dear?" Charles was finishing his breakfast; he didn't look up from his meal.

"Since it is non-working day for you, may I take the carriage tomorrow? I need to go to the Webber residence."

He dropped his spoon, and it clanked loudly in his bowl. "Alone?"

"Well, yes." She fiddled with the loose threads on her sleeve, uncomfortable and nervous about deceiving her own uncle.

"Can Angela not come here, as she always does?" he asked.

"I'm taking Angela and Mrs. Webber with me, to the Stanleys'. They have called a jeweller from Port Angeles, and we wanted to see his collection. I'll pick them up and then go." She avoided his eyes, knowing full well that she couldn't lie to his face.

"You can tell them to pick you up first, and then leave for the Stanleys' house." He didn't like the idea of sending his precious niece alone again. The last time had been a disaster.

"Uncle…" She tried to find an excuse to let her off the hook. "I believe the weather will be fine tomorrow. If not, then I won't go altogether. I just thought that—the Webbers have always lent us their carriage whenever we needed it. We have never reciprocated. I thought… perhaps this time?" She sighed quietly, knowing how flimsy her excuse was.

"Well, Issy, I have no problems with that. It's just that..." He looked directly into her eyes, his forehead creased in worry. "I am anxious for your safety. What happened the last time when you went to the Webbers'… it still chills my bones."

Isabella was drowning in guilt, but she knew that there was no other way. She knew Charles would not have approved of her actual plans.

"I'll be fine, Uncle. That was just a one-off incident. I already told you that I won't go if the weather is bad. Borrowing from the Webbers every time, it embarrasses me." She looked down. "I'm sorry." She could feel the rush of blood that hurried toward her face. Lying was never an easy task for her.

"No no, my dear, it's fine. You can go. But please, be careful this time." He rose from his chair and patted her shoulder. "So, how long will you be?"

"I have no clue. It depends on how quickly Angela chooses her pieces." She smiled at his curious expression.

"When will you leave?"

"Morning, around nine o'clock, because I hope to be back for lunch. It might get a little late, though. Would you like me to prepare the lunch beforehand?" She wished the interrogation would be over soon.

"No, I would like to have lunch with you, Issy. I can wait. The weekend is the only time when I get to eat lunch with you." He moved towards the main door.

She got his coat and helped him put it on. "Yes, Uncle, I like having lunch with you on weekends as well."

When he reached the door, he stopped abruptly and looked at the front wall. "Issy?"

"Hmm?" She followed his gaze and immediately regretted it. The cracks in the front wall glared at her, reminding her of the events of yesterday.

"How did that happen?" He pointed at the cracks.

"Umm, I don't know, Uncle. I only noticed just now…." She fidgeted again. "Could it be the dampness? Maybe it got into the wall and froze in the morning."

"Well, I've never seen that happen before. That is strange." He gave the wall one more look and then headed outside.

A feeling of relief washed over Isabella as she saw Charles depart. Her lies were not detected, and her plan was still intact.

* * *

"Oh, good morning," Isabella approached the house attendant who was cleaning the floors. "I have come for Mr. Masen. Could you please inform him that Isabella Swan is here to see him?" She didn't know how formal she had to be, but she tried nonetheless.

The attendant looked up at her in dismay. She was the same attendant who had interrupted Edward the day he showed Isabella his room. "I'm sorry, but he's not available right now," she spat out what he had told her to, keeping in line with his instructions.

Isabella was disappointed. She had hoped to find him there in the morning. She had lied to her uncle just so she could meet with Edward. "Is there any chance that he might be available any time soon?"

"I'm afraid not," the attendant replied tersely and started walking away.

Isabella nodded and turned around to get back to her carriage. She sighed, clutching Edward's coat close in her hands. _Well, this trip was fruitless_.

"Miss Swan!" she stopped abruptly as Edward's smooth voice called out from behind.

_Or maybe not. Thank heavens for that!_ She turned back to face Edward, who was leaning against the door frame in a casual manner.

"I thought you weren't at home?"

"You can see that I am. Come inside." He walked back into the mansion. His body language was enough to tell her to follow.

He stopped outside his study and motioned for her to head inside. Once inside the study, he opened the big windows on the wall behind his table to allow the fresh air to enter. Although her scent wasn't as difficult to handle as before, he didn't want to take any chances.

He turned his back to her and rested his hands on the windowsill. "What brought you here?"

She could feel the hostility in his voice; it made her squirm. "I-I needed to talk to you." _Perhaps, this wasn't the right time? One can never know with him. Always so mercurial._

"Regarding?" He kept his back to her, wondering if she told anyone about Henry's misconduct.

"Yesterday," she blurted out, "I don't know what to do about it. I haven't told anyone yet."

"Good. You probably shouldn't." He could sense her nervousness, and it pleased him.

"But… why?" Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Isabella..." He turned around to face her. "Do you have any understanding of social norms and mechanisms?" he said condescendingly.

She looked at him with a bewildered expression, offended and puzzled at the same time.

Edward continued, "Do you think that telling people about this incident would do you any good?" He moved towards the table and sat on its edge, still facing her. "Do you think that Crawford would be punished?" _She shall never know that he already has been punished_, he thought smugly.

She stared at him blankly; his words were not making any sense to her.

"You know, all the vilification that will ensue afterward will be on you and not on him." His intimidating tone made her cringe, yet she was determined to put forth her own view.

"But it wasn't my fault that he attacked me!" she argued.

"Yes, but that is what I'm trying to drill into your hard skull! You have no comprehension of the way people respond to such cases. They will accuse you, not him, because you're the one who presented the temptation to him. That is what the usual reaction will be." His eyes bored into hers, trying to will her into submission.

She lost her train of thought as his eyes locked with hers. But she quickly composed herself and carried on, "Temptation…? I never encouraged him!" She wasn't ready to let go of this argument.

"Of course you didn't, but only you know that. People have a habit of making assumptions, Isabella. I am sure that they will decide that it wasn't completely his fault, that you were the one who lured him in, intentionally or unintentionally." Edward saw her determination falter in response to his harsh words. It gave him the leverage to manipulate her, and he knew how to that well.

"But I can't just remain quiet about it. What if he comes back? I won't be lucky every time!" A hint of petulance entered her voice, as she tried feebly to hang on to her argument.

"You can keep your doors closed in that case," he replied bluntly, and that made her flinch.

"He might do it to someone else…" she said softly, feeling hurt by his brusqueness.

Edward smiled at her, feeling victorious. _He won't_.

"That's not your concern. Besides, think about your uncle, Isabella. Do you think that Charles could handle all the denigration? Have you considered that? Do you want to see him drowned in anxiety again? I'm sure you don't want that," he stated confidently. He was sure that the mention of Charles would keep her lips sealed.

"No, I don't want him to suffer because of me." She looked away dejectedly.

"Obviously. Now do you understand?"

She nodded, feeling defeated. Even though she hadn't fully understand the logic behind Edward's reasoning, she didn't want to take any chances. Therefore, for the sake of her uncle, she decided to stay quiet about the whole incident.

"And yes, be more careful from now on. Don't be so oblivious to the reactions of men around you. Given how desirable you are…" Edward almost gave away his intentions with that statement.

"Desirable?" she squeaked in shock.

"Isabella, don't tell me that you don't know that. In plain words, men find you tempting, and men like a good temptation."

"But, you're a man as well," she whispered to herself, not intending for him hear.

"Did I ever deny that?" He had obviously heard her.

"Deny what? Being a man?" she mocked, beginning to dislike his cryptic talk.

He tilted his head slightly and looked at her with a strange expression. "You know what I mean, Isabella. You know exactly what I mean." His eyes blazed as he gazed at her with full intensity.

She gulped, feeling incapacitated under his hypnotic gaze. She couldn't bring herself to respond.

A few seconds passed in silence.

Desperately wanting to change the course of the conversation, Isabella spoke again, "Why did you come? I mean to say… how did you know that I was in trouble? Or was there another reason to pay a visit?"

His gaze hardened at her question, and his eyes became cold. He rose from the table and returned to the window. "Can't you just thank me and leave it at that?"

His harsh tone made her flinch again. She knew that he wasn't going to give her a valid answer to that question.

"Thank you—for everything," she croaked. "And… I brought your coat back."

He nodded, looking out the window. "Leave it on the chair."

Another moment passed in silence. The tension in the room grew.

"You may take your leave now, Miss Swan" he snapped, still looking outside.

Completely flustered, Isabella left the coat on the chair and fled the room. She pushed the whole conversation to the back of her mind as she approached her carriage. _I can think about it later when I'm alone. Must get to the Webbers quickly, or else they'll start wondering where I went_.

* * *

"So, Issy, what do you think about this one? Should I wear this or the other one I bought from Port Angeles?" With only two days left until the Grand Ball, Angela was still undecided with her attire. Therefore, she had invited Isabella to her home for advice.

"Well, honestly, I don't know…" Isabella eyed the two dresses, then continued, "Maybe that blue one?"

Angela looked approvingly at her dress. "I thought as much," she chirped. "Fine then, let's go downstairs for lunch."

Downstairs, Mrs. Webber had already gotten the table laid for lunch. "Oh girls, what took you both so long?"

"We were deciding on what to wear to the Grand Ball," replied Angela, giving her mother a hug.

"Oh yes, that is a serious issue," Mrs. Webber teased.

They settled at the table and started with their lunch. It had only been a few minutes when an attendant came running towards the lunch table. "Mrs. Webber, the Sheriff is here. He-he wants to talk to you."

Everyone stopped eating, and a strange lull fell over the lunch table.

"Police?" Mrs. Webber asked, looking incredulously at the attendant. He nodded. Composing herself, she continued, "Yes, of course. Please ask him to wait."

Mrs. Webber deliberated over the probable reasons behind this visit, but the more she thought, the more confused she became. Therefore, wasting no further time, she hurried to the drawing room, where the Sheriff was waiting for her. Isabella and Angela followed right behind her.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Webber," the Sheriff greeted, "I'm really sorry for disturbing you, but this is something of a routine task. Getting to point here, I wanted to ask a few questions."

"Regarding?" Her expression was guarded.

"Well, a death has been reported in the area. We're here to investigate it."

All the three women uttered a collective gasp.

"I'm extremely sorry, but this is our job. This might be a little disturbing. Please, don't feel offended, I'll try to keep it as concise as possible," he tried to put the nervous women at ease, and then continued, "A body was recovered on the forested land owned by Mr. Bates. He himself found it when he was taking a tour through the woods. Appears to be some kind of animal attack, probably a bear."

He paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. "This body is in a very bad shape, completely mangled and mutilated; we're unable to have it identified. Hence, we collected the belongings that were found on the body, for identification purposes. All I want of you is to have a look at them, and please let me know if you recognize anything."

Mrs. Webber nodded. Although flustered, she knew that her own family had nothing to with it, and that the police were only conducting a door-to-door investigation.

Angela and Isabella, on the other hand, weren't quite able to control their reactions. Even the thought of viewing something from a dead body was making them jumpy.

The Sheriff put forth the wooden box that he had been holding all this time. Opening it, he turned the box in the direction of Mrs. Webber. "There's a fountain pen, a cigar box, and strangely enough, a diamond necklace," he stated with slight amusement in his voice. "A bear would certainly not find it of any value."

Isabella froze at the mention of the diamond necklace. She bent forward slightly, a feeling of dread washing over her as she peeked at the items inside the box.

Her face lost all its colour as she looked at the necklace. It was the same necklace that Henry Crawford had dangled in front of her as a bait to seduce her. She tried to neutralize her expression, but her ashen face refused to regain its normal colour. Drawing herself back, she tried to hide behind the heavyset frame of Mrs. Webber.

_It has to be the same necklace. I remember it vividly. Henry Crawford was pushing it into my face. And now, he is… dead?_ Isabella gave an involuntary shudder at the thought, which didn't go unnoticed by Angela.

"What is it, Issy?" Angela whispered into her ear.

"I-I think I might be sick. Angela, I cannot go through this, seeing a dead man's belongings. It's making me nauseous," Isabella replied feebly.

"Let me help you, then." Angela patted her shoulder, trying to soothe her. "Mother? May I take Isabella inside? She's not feeling too well. All this is making her uncomfortable." She waved at the wooden box to emphasize her point.

The chief raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked at a very pallid-faced Isabella. "Is she a part of this family?"

"No, she's the niece of Mr. Charles Swan, a family friend." Mrs. Webber gave Isabella a reassuring look and continued, whispering this time, "She lost her parents not long ago, so, I believe this procedure is making her relive a few bad memories. I suggest that you please let her go inside."

The officer nodded, glancing at Isabella once more, just to see if her reaction was one of recognition. Her face looked frozen to him, as though she wasn't even present inside the room. He assumed it the result of the trauma of her parents' death and left it at that.

"What happened, Issy?" asked Angela, as she escorted Isabella out of the room. She took her to the kitchen and offered her a glass of water.

"Nothing, Angela, I'm a bit sensitive about things like this…" Isabella took the glass from Angela and emptied it quickly. Water always helped soothe her nerves.

"A _little_? You look like a ghost, Issy." Angela was worried for her friend.

"I'm fine now." Isabella wanted to suppress the memories of that day, but the more she tried, the more she got pulled back. She knew that she couldn't tell anyone about the whole episode with Henry, even more so now. Henry Crawford was dead, and she recognized that diamond necklace_._

_ I can't explain my knowledge of that necklace without divulging the details of …the incident_, she thought dreadfully.

And so she decided to stay quiet about it.

* * *

_**I hope my Sadistward didn't put ya'll off. Well, according to me, he did have a very valid reason to be so pissed. Therefore, Off with Henry's head!**_

_**Aye? lol.**_


	6. Chapter 6

******A/N:** This chapter took extremely long to write. I guess I was facing a mini writer's block of sorts. The added pressure of exams made Edward run away at vampire speed. My poor helpless imagination was left high and dry.

**Anyhow, I yanked him back and managed to bring him to you again. Phew!**

**Thanks for the glorious reviews! Some of you have been reviewing very religiously, and I feel so honoured because of that. Keep them coming!**

******FAQs Answered-**

**-_Some of you asked me if the Cullens would be involved. _**

**The Cullens WILL make an appearance later. For more, watch this space!**

**_-Some asked about Edward's diet changes._**

**Yes, he changed his diet to animal blood. How his eyes changed colour so quickly? He isn't a newborn, therefore, it takes only weeks for his eye colour to change from red to orange.**

**Now enjoy the chapter! :D**

* * *

Edward was running through the forest, feeling the exhilarating high of the speed. It was one of those nights—time to hunt. Besides, the sprint across the forest helped rein his anger in.

He was infuriated with careless human behaviour. Law enforcement was unable to solve the death of Henry Crawford, whose body Edward had left to rot away in the forest. He was hoping that the Webbers wouldn't go to the Ball after that, the death of a relative being reason enough.

For the time being, Edward tried to drop that thought, but the undercurrent of its annoyance still remained.

In addition to that, he was feeling unusually restless tonight. It had been weeks since he changed his diet, and now, he was starting to feel a deep need for human blood. It wasn't a craving—even if it was, he'd never admit it—but rather a sense of discontentment. Animal blood wasn't able to sustain him for more than two weeks, where human blood was much more durable. He felt irritated at the need to hunt more often than usual.

_All because of THAT woman. She has made me literally insane._ He tried to be bitter about it, but the very thought of Isabella disarmed him completely.

He stopped abruptly, suddenly feeling a loss of direction.

_Bella…_

His hands moved on their own, coursing through his hair in a desperate attempt to bring his composure back.

_I WILL have her, one way or the other. She will have to pay the price for being so deliciously irresistible—for walking right into my life that night…_He smiled darkly at the thought.

Edward sat on his haunches, tracing his fingers on the wet earth, appreciating its warm, brown colour. It reminded him of her—her eyes.

_My Bella…_

Twisting his hands into the soil, he grabbed a handful of it, remembering her chocolate coloured eyes. They seemed to invite him in, lock him in their warmth. He wanted to see them everyday and every night.

Edward stood up, trying to shake off her drug-like effect_. __I'm on a hunt. I should be focused on feeding. This is no time to think about my other hungers._

He sniffed the air to get a better feel for his surroundings. He could identify various scents in the air. One of them was more appealing than the rest—mountain lion. He followed the scent for about a mile and then spotted the animal behind thick underbrush. Crouching in an attacking position, he prepared for his stealthy attack. Just when he was about to pounce, another scent hit him, a human scent. His senses got clouded, and his inherent vampire instinct took over. The mountain lion was instantly forgotten.

Edward leapt from his position, following the human scent he had just caught. It took him out of the forest and into the fringes of the human population. There, he found a hutment on the edge of the woods, and the human scent was concentrated all around it.

He peered inside through a darkened window. A young woman was sleeping in that room. He could sense others as well, but they were sleeping in other rooms. The smell that had brought him here didn't belong to her, but he opened her window nonetheless. He was ready to attack the first human he encountered.

She was sleeping. Her dreams were as dull to him as any other human's. He was least interested in her mind. All he wanted in this moment was her blood. Without wasting any time, he lowered himself on to her bed and pinned her sleeping form beneath him.

She stirred, feeling his weight, and opened her eyes slightly. It was dark, and she was unable to make out anything, except for the fact that something hard and cold was pinning her to her bed.

"What—" He cut her off with his hand, closing it around her lips so that she wouldn't make any suspicious noises. He was finally getting to drink human blood, and he didn't want to ruin the experience by alerting others.

"Don't worry, it will soon be over," he cooed in her ear. Her eyes widened upon hearing his voice. She didn't know what to make of it, and struggling seemed like the only plausible option for her.

Her resistance irritated him, but it did nothing to deter him. He dove straight for her jugular, tracing it with his lips to get a taste of her skin. The action took him straight back to Isabella, the first night he saw her.

_Bella…_

The name resonated in his mind again. Like a whiplash, it brought him back from his bloodthirsty haze. He looked at the terrified girl's face.

_Human blood… Red eyes…_

Edward knew that if he drank human blood now, then he wouldn't be able to be around Isabella in public. He didn't want to let go of this chance.

Making up his mind, he lowered his head into her neck again, and whispered in her ear, "Shh… it's just a dream. Close your eyes, and it will be over."

The girl froze in place, her thoughts frantic. At once, she closed her eyes, praying to God for it to be over. She felt the dead weight lift off her body immediately. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but darkness. A gust of cold wind whipped inside the room, alerting her to the open window. She got off her bed and quickly closed it shut.

The incident only increased her belief in God. The only impression Edward had left on her was of a ghost. She thought that her prayers had scared him off.

_Suits me fine,_ Edward thought wryly, as he glided into the forest again. His throat was burning with thirst, but he resisted hunting humans. He knew that this was the only chance he'd get with Isabella. And he wanted to take it, since Isabella was the only person who wouldn't disturb him with her mental monologue. He couldn't read her mind, and that was almost like a blessing.

_Oh, the pleasure it would bring._ He groaned at the thought, willing himself to forget about her blood. _She can satisfy my carnal hungers…_

Determined to work his way around his thirst, Edward followed the scent of the mountain lion again. The animal wasn't very far off. He found it again, much too easily.

Leaping into the air, he landed straight on its back, crushing the animal beneath him. Snapping its neck, he dug his teeth into its throat. The resultant flow of blood into his mouth brought a rush of relief to his thirst. It wasn't as good as human blood, but it was enough to keep him sated.

He was ready to compromise his thirst for now.

* * *

"Issy, you don't fool me one bit. I know that you are not sick. You're just doing it to avoid the Ball. Why, Issy? When I told you that I wouldn't let anyone bother you!" Angela threw her hands in the air, feeling frustrated with her friend's pigheadedness.

Isabella held her blanket over her head and refused to let go of it. She had decided to feign illness, just so that she could miss the Grand Ball. "But, Angela, I _don't_ feel well. You can ask my uncle about it. I really don't feel up to it," she groaned as Angela pulled at her blanket. "Do you want me to vomit on people?"

She was in no mood to socialize. The shock of Henry's death was still very fresh in her memory. The guilt of hiding this fact was eating at her. She couldn't bring herself to tell the Webbers.

"No, Issy, even your uncle knows that you're just scared of the ball. I take full responsibility for everything, Issy. If anything goes badly, then you can blame me. But please, don't be so infantile about it." Angela finally pulled the blanket from Isabella's clutches.

"Oh right, I can very well blame you! But, Angela, it will be _me_, and not _you_, who'll get humiliated in front of a crowd!"

"I won't let that happen, Issy. Just trust me? Now please, go and take a nice warm bath. It will soothe you and calm your nerves. I'll get your dress ready, and well, it will give me some time to set my hair." Angela grabbed Isabella's hands and pulled her out of the bed.

Isabella hung her head in defeat. She knew that the torture was unavoidable. Therefore, she bolstered herself up and marched toward the bathroom.

Angela smiled and shook her head at her friend's antics. _Issy is so stubborn sometimes… But I'm sure she'll like it. She just needs to open up a bit._

After Isabella came out of her bath—a one-hour long, reluctant bath—she was horrified to see Angela on her bed, with an assortment of accessories sitting beside her. "What is all _this_?"

Angela just grinned evilly and gestured for her to go to her closet.

"Angela, this dress… is not mine. From where…?" Isabella looked at the dress in plain shock. It was an expensive piece.

"The ones you had were a bit…," Angela searched for the right word, "plain. Grandmother evening gowns. Issy, this is a ball, not just a simple social gathering. You ought to have a proper evening gown for it."

"But Angela, how? When?"

"You don't need to bother yourself about it." Angela waved her hand in dismissal.

"I'm not wearing this, Angela. This isn't right. You cannot buy such expensive things for me!" Isabella was thoroughly embarrassed.

The class difference between them was suddenly very obvious.

Angela could see it written all over her face. "Issy, I hope you're not thinking on _those_ lines. Please? This isn't about money or extravagance. You're my friend, that's why…" her voice cracked as she trailed off.

"Angela." A heavy sigh escaped Isabella's lips. "I just meant that—well, you didn't have to do this for me." She wanted to say something to contradict her true emotions but couldn't. "All right, I _was_ thinking on those lines."

Angela nodded sullenly. "I know. Why do you have to be so difficult, Isabella? I only bought it because I love you."

Isabella stood frozen at the closet door. The loving gesture from her friend was somewhat alien to her. Never before had any friend done such a thing for her. She didn't know how to respond.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Now go and wear it." Angela understood her hesitation.

A moment of silence passed.

"Angela… thank you for being such a caring friend." Isabella smiled sheepishly and hugged her, then disappeared behind the closet doors.

Angela just laughed at her awkwardness. _Such is my friend._

Inside the closet, Isabella looked appraisingly at her dress. The sapphire blue evening gown had a big bustle, flowing straight out of the back waist. There wasn't much of a train to it; she breathed a sigh of relief for that. Having a train posed several drawbacks for her since she was somewhat clumsy. It was sleeveless and had a low neck, merging with her shoulders. A pair of soft, pearly-white leather gloves accompanied the dress.

She fitted the corset along her waist and adjusted her neckline, feeling a little self-conscious.

"What's taking you so long, Issy?" Angela tapped on the closet door impatiently.

Isabella opened the door and timidly walked out toward the dressing table. "Angela, the neckline; it's too low."

"No, it isn't. It's just that you haven't dressed up like that before. And why is your corset so loose?!" Angela stepped forward and tightened the strings of Isabella's corset.

Isabella yelped, feeling constricted. "Angela! I can't breathe! You will kill me!"

"No, I won't. Get used to it, Issy," Angela scolded her.

"Ugh—All right. So, now what?" Isabella asked in choking voice.

Angela made her sit in front of the dressing table and applied light powder and rouge on her face.

"Angela, I'm pale as it is. Don't--ahhchhoo!" Isabella sneezed reflexively as the powder tickled her nose.

"Isabella, what a strange creature you are. You don't wear low neck dresses, you sneeze on applying the powder… you amaze me." Angela laughed heartily.

"I told you!" Isabella rubbed the tip of her nose, feeling her cheeks heating up.

In the next hour, she sat obediently in front of her dressing table, letting Angela comb her hair. Angela set her hair in a cluster of ringlets, letting her bangs fall delicately onto the sides of her face.

"Right. I think you look extremely presentable," Angela announced in a haughty, mocking tone.

Isabella giggled in response. It was the first time in two days that she really felt happy and carefree.

"No giggling, young woman! You ought to behave like a _propah_ lady now." Angela tucked Isabella's arm in hers and walked out the door. "Now, we have a ball to attend! Hurry up, princess!"

* * *

The Grand Ball was everything that Isabella had thought. Most certainly, a scary place for her.

"Why is everyone staring? Is there something wrong with me?" She nudged Angela, trying to get her attention. Angela, instead, was looking quite intently at something in the distance.

"Angela! Respond to me at least."

"Hmm?" Angela sounded distracted. For once, Isabella forgot about her awkwardness and followed her friend's gaze. It was stuck on a young man with dark hair about their age.

Angela blinked, her gaze still fixed on the man. "I'm sorry, Issy. What were you saying?" she asked distractedly.

Isabella shook her head, feeling amused. "Nothing really, I just wanted to go and sit somewhere. Standing here is attracting unwanted attention."

"Oh." Angela grabbed her hand and sauntered away to the far side of the hall. She got Isabella seated in a corner as per her preference.

"Look, Issy, I need to go and find someone I think I know from somewhere. So, can you stay here for a while?" she asked anxiously, looking imploringly into Isabella's eyes.

She laughed. "Angela, I'm not a child or an imbecile. Go ahead and talk to him. I'll be perfectly fine."

Angela blushed, realizing that Isabella had caught her staring. "Yes, thank you, Issy. I won't take long." With that, she marched away, determined to find the man again. His face seemed familiar to her, but she wasn't able to fully identify him. She wanted to get a closer look, and she didn't have to go very far.

"Hello, my name is Angela Webber," she introduced herself shyly, feeling out of place. But something inside her spurred her on, like a magnetic force, drawing her towards him. "I'm sorry for being so—"

"Angela!" he gasped, shock evident on his face. "My god, have you grown up or…?"

Angela stared at him in surprise. Then, like a sudden revelation, it dawned on her. "Ben! I knew it! That's why you looked so familiar!"

Her mother came up behind her and cleared her throat, a signal for Angela to stop talking loudly. "Angela, I think you are forgetting something."

"I'm sorry, Mother. But look who's here." Angela pointed at him. "Ben! You remember him?"

Her mother nodded and smiled, "Yes of course, Mr. and Mrs. Cheney's son. You two used to be good friends."

Ben nodded in response, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it. "How have you been, Mrs. Webber? It's been a long time." He sighed, his gaze resting upon Angela. _How long indeed. She is… so grown up and… beautiful! I wonder if she will be the same way with me. Well, she did sound enthusiastic. I can only wish…_

"Ben, come with me. I'll introduce you to my very good friend, Isabella." She reached for his arm but stopped mid-way. Mrs. Webber glared at her, reminding her of the proper lady-like behaviour.

Ben noticed it, and thus, he offered her his arm. "Sure."

As they walked towards Isabella, Ben turned to Angela and asked, "Very good friend? I thought I used to be that. Was it so easy to replace me?"

"No, it's not like that. After we moved from Boise, I didn't have a friend for so many years. Forks is a claustrophobic place, Ben. One cannot find friends here so easily. She just came here a few months ago. She is really sweet and kind hearted. But, well, she is not your replacement."

"So, you still consider me as your good friend?"

"Ben! You're not just a good friend, you're," she paused, feeling her face heat up, "…the best. How many times do you want me to say that?"

"Perhaps one thousand or more," he teased her.

"Mr. Cheney, that's not nice at all." She giggled.

Isabella noticed the glow that had spread over her friend's face. _They look complete like that, complementing each other. They'd make a handsome couple._

She sighed, feeling a strange ache in her heart. It wasn't the first time that she had contemplated love. She had read about it, and thought about it many times, only to feel somewhat empty in the end. She often wondered if it was even real. Then again, her parents had been ample proof of that. And now, it was Angela. She knew that her friend was just about to fall into the depths of this strange emotion.

"Isabella, first, my apologies for leaving you like that. Second, this is Ben Cheney, my good ol' childhood friend." She gestured towards Ben. "And Ben, this is Isabella Swan."

"Hello, Miss Swan, it's a pleasure to meet you." Ben repeated the same kissing gesture on her hand.

"Same here, Mr. Cheney." She nodded, smiling broadly at him.

The three of them conversed for the next few minutes and then had their dinner together. Ben's friend, Michael Newton, joined them soon. After their introduction, he took her hand in his, and dropped a lingering kiss on it. "You have a very pretty name, Miss Swan."

"Thank you." She pulled her hand back, glad that she was wearing gloves tonight. Every time a man kissed her hand, she was reminded of Henry Crawford.

All four of them sat down together in a corner of the hall, laughing and chatting about the usual things of life. Michael told the girls about his father's gold mine and that he actually didn't want to join his business. Ben scoffed at him, explaining to the girls that Michael was only telling this to get their accolades.

Everything about the ball suddenly looked easy to Isabella... until it was time for the dancing to start.

Isabella stiffened as she heard the music and saw the couples taking the floor.

"Shall we, Miss Webber?" Ben grinned at Angela as he offered his hand to her.

"Oh, why didn't you ask Miss Swan?" Angela nudged Isabella, who was looking like a fish out of water.

"Well, she looks stricken. I wouldn't hazard a risk." Ben tried to make Isabella feel better. He could see that she didn't want to be on the floor.

"Yes, you two go ahead. I'll be fine sitting here." Isabella motioned towards the dancing couples.

She watched Ben and Angela, their hands entwined together, as they walked over to the dancing arena.

Isabella glanced to her side, and her gaze locked with the bright blue eyes of Michael. He pointed at Ben and Angela, who waved back at him. Confused, Isabella stared at him, wide eyed.

_I hope he doesn't ask, _she thought anxiously._ Otherwise, Angela shall be dead._

After a few moments of silent innuendos—like nodding toward the dancing couples, or waving at Ben and Angela—Michael couldn't contain himself any longer. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

Isabella sighed. The dreadful part of the ball was here. "Actually, Mr. Newton, I'd prefer not to. It doesn't have anything to do with your offer, just a personal choice."

He looked at her with a befuddled expression. Rejection came as a shock to him. "Not even a single dance?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm really sorry, but please…"

Isabella averted her eyes from his, feeling a rush of guilt. Such awkward situations were the reason behind her attempts to avoid this Ball.

He nodded, feeling dejected for a moment. "That's fine."

"Why don't you go over there and find someone else to dance with? I mean, I'm sure you'll find a nice partner. Please don't let me ruin the experience," she tried to deflect him.

"I'll see what I can do about that." He smiled at her. "Will you be fine?"

She nodded in reply, giving him the approval to leave. He kissed her hand once again and headed over to the more crowded part of the hall.

Isabella let out a relieved sigh.

"Afraid of dancing, are you?"

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard a very familiar male voice beside her. Goosebumps rose on her back, and she turned to face Edward Masen.

"I thought you didn't socialize!" she blurted out and immediately regretted it. _Now, he won't be happy hearing that._

She waited for an acidic response, but it never came. Instead, he grinned at her, looking quite pleased. "Evening, Miss Swan. Good to know that you keep tabs on my personal life." His grin widened.

Isabella wanted to hide behind the sofa. Her face was turning red like a tomato.

"Is it just me, or do you blush all too easily?" he asked in a teasing tone.

She looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I don't know…"

He took the moment to swallow the venom that had gathered in his mouth.

"You still didn't answer me, though. Are you afraid of dancing?"

"Would you refrain from asking me if I said yes?" She didn't raise her eyes.

He decided to tease her a bit more. "What made you think that I'd want to ask?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it's a ball, and people are dancing?" she pointed towards the dancing arena.

"Perhaps. No."

"Pardon?"

"I just answered your question, Isabella." He moved closer to her and took her hand in his. "I would still ask you."

She looked up and met his gaze. "Why don't you find someone else?"

"I don't mix well with others. Besides, it's you that I want." His eyes smouldered as he said that.

She had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping open. For a few seconds, she forgot what her argument was. His eyes were a powerful disarming weapon.

She tore her eyes away from his in order to regain her composure. "I can't dance. Please, Mr. Masen," she attempted again in a feeble voice.

"Well, I can always make you. It's not that mountainous a task, Isabella. It's all in the leading," he spoke in his best persuasive tone.

Her hand was still in his grasp. He pulled at it slightly to make her stand up. She resisted a little, even glared at him.

_The angry kitten is glaring at me. This just gets more and more entertaining,_ he thought amusedly.

"Just once, let go, Isabella. I promise, I won't let you fall, or slip, or even appear clumsy." He stood up and pulled her up with him.

"I'm warning you. Be prepared for a few injuries on your toes." She glowered at him.

He merely smirked, oozing with confidence. "I'm sure the experience is worth it."

Edward led her to the dance floor and turned her around to face him. His left hand gently gripped hers, while the right one wrapped around her waist. Once again, his intoxicating smell surrounded her, nearly making her incoherent with its vanilla and honey sweetness.

"So, tell me," he said, moving a bit closer, "how many casualties have happened because of you?"

"No, it's very embarrassing." She tried to look over his shoulder, but his height caused him to tower over her, restricting her view.

Slowly, they started moving to the soft music. Isabella was tense. She didn't know what made her more nervous; her inability to dance, or Edward's proximity.

Edward was pleased with himself. He knew that she had refused Michael, but she didn't refuse him. It was like a small victory.

He dipped his head to her side and murmured, "See? You are dancing flawlessly. I believe your fears were misplaced."

She shivered slightly, feeling his cool breath on her neck and shoulder. The heat of her blush was a stark contrast to it; it almost made her jump.

"I-I don't think so… I think it's because of you." She mentally cursed herself for sounding incoherent.

"Whatever you say, Isabella." He wanted to keep himself there only, near her neck, but he knew that it would look too intimate, hence, he withdrew.

They danced away in silence, moving in rhythm. He looked into her eyes with the same burning expression, inevitably making her lose her touch with reality.

"Mr. Masen?" she managed to utter after a while. The silence and his constant staring were getting to her.

He nodded, prompting her to continue.

"I-I haven't heard from Henry Crawford again…" she left the sentence hanging, unable to continue. She didn't know why she touched that topic again, but it just came forth somehow. _You are utterly stupid, Isabella._

He stiffened at the mention of Henry's name, and his eyes grew visibly dark.

"I-I mean, I'm glad that he never came back." She tried to ease the tension. _Good, not only did you make yourself look stupid, you ruined his mood as well._

His expression softened. "Tell me, Isabella. What's bothering you? I know that you can't talk about it with another person."

She stared at him for a moment, debating on whether to tell him or not.

"Mr. Masen… I don't know what to think. The law enforcement, well, they found a dead body—and recovered a diamond necklace. It's the same necklace that _he_ had offered me." She paused, gauging his reaction. He seemed unfazed, so she continued, "What else does it mean? I think …he's dead."

"And you can't tell anyone about it," he completed her sentence, his face grim.

She nodded, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to break loose.

"It's apparent that the Webbers don't know about it." He had wanted the Webbers to mourn Henry's death. That was one way to stop Isabella from attending the Grand Ball. Attending the Ball hadn't been on his agenda. He had only come here because of her, to keep an eye on her and to keep the rest of the male population away from her; even though he knew that it was a puerile thing to do.

"I'm sure the law enforcement must have shown his belongings to them," he continued, observing her reaction, "Well, at least, they did show a few things to me."

Isabella's head jerked up in shock as she processed his last sentence. "They came to you as well? You saw that necklace?"

"Yes, it was their duty to do so. I obviously didn't recognize the necklace, since I wasn't paying attention to it at _that_ time. Therefore, I wasn't aware that it was _him_. Now that you've told me, I have put two and two together."

Edward almost laughed in her face. The amusement he was getting from this situation was beyond satisfying. Isabella was helpless, and he comfortably fit into the role of a saviour.

"The Webbers don't even know… and I feel guilty, traitorous for keeping it from them." She looked around for any signs of Angela and Ben. They weren't anywhere near.

"That is understandable. You can't tell, because it would complicate the matter." He sighed. _So virtuous, my little kitten…_

"I don't know what to do, Mr. Masen," she whispered.

_Satisfy me. It's as simple as that._ Edward had to suppress a chuckle at the thought.

He smiled at her and tried to look compassionate. "Leave it to fate. Everything balances itself out eventually. Don't take it on yourself. You were the _victim_, Isabella, not the perpetrator."

She nodded, feeling a bit relieved at his words. "Thank you, Mr. Masen. You've been very kind to me. How can I ever repay you?"

At this, his smile turned into a smirk, accompanied by a wicked gleam in his eyes. "There _is_ a way to repay me, Isabella."

She looked into his eyes, confused again. "There is? Do tell me. I'd be more than happy to do something for you." In the back of her mind, Isabella could hear a small voice telling her that it wasn't such a good idea.

"I'll pay you and your uncle a visit, probably the day after tomorrow. I'll be asking a question, which you will have to answer. Just say 'yes,' as your answer."

Isabella stared at him, wondering what that meant. "Can I know the question beforehand?"

"No," he answered rather bluntly, "it will lose its importance." _And give you more time to think. Not a very good prospect for me._

"But—"

"Isabella, I thought you wanted to repay me. It is the only thing I'm asking of you, just a small three-letter word as your answer," he wheedled.

She looked down, considering his plea. The only thing that irked her was the question. It bothered her not to know anything about it. _He has a strange expression on his face, like he'd be asking for his pound of flesh. I don't know if I should agree to it, _she deliberated inside her head. _For there are times when he acts like an angel, and times when he acts like a devil incarnate. Now would be the latter._

He laughed lightly, maneuvering her around the dance floor. "You look worried."

"I—well…" She wanted to say no, but she didn't know if that would be wise. He was one person who knew about Henry and her, and she wondered if he might use it against her some day if she didn't agree. Even though he'd been of much help to her, her intuition told her that Edward Masen wasn't one to be trusted so immediately.

"Well?" he prodded, knowing full well that her subconscious mind was giving her warnings.

_It would have been so pleasurable to hear her thoughts,_ he mused, staring intently at her angelic face. _But I can't complain. The absence of her thoughts is going to be fabulous in some situations._

In an abrupt move, she stopped moving along with him. He had to stop as well, or else she would have dragged like a ragdoll.

His eyes questioned her, to which she responded, "I need to sit down. Please? I think I've filled my quota of dancing for tonight."

He nodded and led her back to her little corner of the hall.

Michael was already sitting there, looking accusingly at Isabella. "Didn't you say you don't like to dance?" he asked as she sat down, Edward close to her side.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Newton, but Mr. Masen here insisted." She sighed, feeling inept at answering his question. "All I can say is that he's very persuasive."

She went on to introduce them to each other.

They both exchanged pleasantries, but Edward's face courted a look of animosity, aimed singularly at Michael. Isabella noted it but didn't know why Edward was acting in such a way. _His mood changes so frequently. It's hard to tell why. Maybe he isn't happy about the fact that I didn't answer him. Whatever it is, I hope his dark mood changes soon._

Edward kept glaring at Michael, without giving any regard to either Isabella or anyone else who happened to notice his possessive stance over her.

Michael shifted uncomfortably, feeling the hostility from Edward.

Ben and Angela came forth after the dance ended. Angela smiled at Isabella and then turned to Edward. "Mr. Masen! What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

He stood up and kissed her hand, exchanging greetings with her and Ben. Isabella watched his actions with curiosity, thinking, _He never kisses my hand when he greets me…_

Mrs. Webber came up to the girls to inform them that they would be leaving soon. "Isabella, Angela, dear, it's time."

Isabella stood up and looked at Edward. She was anxious that she still hadn't answered him.

He smiled at her in return. "I'll be seeing you and Charles on Sunday."

* * *

Sunday morning, Isabella was shuffling around in the kitchen, her nerves on edge. She still hadn't told Charles, and it made her even more jittery.

Charles noticed her restlessness and approached her. "Issy, is something bothering you?"

She looked at him, her expression sombre. "I-I," she hesitated, knowing full well that he wouldn't react nicely. Taking a deep breath, she decided to blurt it out finally.

"Mr. Masen will be here soon. He wants to talk to you about something."

"Wha—why are _you_ telling me about it?" Charles looked instantly worried. The mention of Edward's name was never a good thing, especially in his household, by his own niece. Isabella knew that well.

"He told me to inform you."

"When and how did you meet him?" Charles asked in a very angry tone. "I thought I told you to stay away from him."

"Uncle, please understand. How could I have shunned him at the Ball? He wanted to speak with me." Isabella tried to keep her voice even, but the rising panic within her was making it difficult. She knew that Edward would be arriving any moment.

"The Ball? He went to the _Ball_?!" Charles looked incredulously at her.

"He just told me that he'd come to see you today. I don't know anything else." She looked away, fearing that he'd catch her lie. _It's better not to tell him about the conversation I had with Mr. Masen. How will I ever be able to explain it all?_

"What does he want to talk about?" Charles muttered to himself. He was not happy with current the developments. "I can only hope that it's not about my work or the repayment of loans. I know that I'm due, but I won't be able to repay it so quickly."

Charles slumped in his chair, dread apparent on his face.

"Let's pray that he won't ask for the money, Uncle. Anything else…" She tried to comfort him, to no avail.

"I can't even leave this job, Issy. He made me sign a written undertaking, expressing that I can't resign until I repay all my loans."

Isabella was about to say something, but her words never made it out of her mouth. The very distinct noise of a carriage stopping outside made her jolt.

"He's here," she managed to croak.

"You stay here in the kitchen; I'll go talk to him." Charles patted the top of her head and hurried out.

Charles opened the door and welcomed Edward inside, who could sense his nerves right away.

"Please, have a seat. Isabella told me you wanted to speak with me. What brought you here, Sir? Is everything fine?" Charles tried to act normal, but his thoughts weren't hidden from Edward.

"Yes, everything's fine, Charles. Since you mentioned her, where is Isabella? Visiting?" he asked casually, knowing clearly where she was.

"She's working in the kitchen." Charles answered with finality. _And she won't come out. She doesn't need to see or hear any of this_, he thought protectively. Edward made an effort not to laugh at this thought.

"Oh, but I thought she'd be sitting here as well while we have our little _chat_." Edward's eyes twinkled with wicked joy. By the flip in her heartbeat, he was able to gauge that Isabella could very well hear him.

"No, I'm afraid, she's busy." Charles couldn't understand the reason behind his insistence on her presence.

Edward nodded, his face expressionless. He didn't want to give away his utter amusement at this conversation. "Fine, then let's get straight to business." He sauntered off casually to the middle of the drawing-room. "I have an offer for you, and of course, your niece." Saunter

"Offer?" Charles couldn't hide his surprise.

"Yes, Charles," Edward continued, staring into empty space. "I'm ready to relinquish all of the money that you have borrowed from me… on one condition."

Charles stared at him in disbelief. "What condition?"

Isabella trained her ears towards the drawing-room, momentarily forgetting about wiping the delicate plate in her hand. She was eager to hear the rest of Edward's offer.

Edward turned to face Charles, his face holding an almost satanic-looking smile. "That you agree to give your niece's hand in marriage… to me. I'll be asking her to marry me."

A loud crash was heard from the kitchen.

Edward's smile widened upon hearing it. He knew that there could only be one answer to the question he'd be asking her... _yes_.

* * *

**That's all folks!**

**I hope you enjoyed it. Wickedward to the fore!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight. I have only turned Edward into a _deliciously devious monster_, and I guess that part remains with me. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** First of all, a squee at all those reviewers who wrote such fantastic heart-warming reviews. Thank you guys. Keep them coming guys, I love you all.

Now, let's see what our _Deliciously Devious Edward_ has planned for our Isabella.

* * *

_"I'm ready to relinquish all of the money that you have borrowed from me… on one condition."_

_Charles stared at him in disbelief. "What condition?_

_Isabella trained her ears towards the drawing-room, momentarily forgetting about wiping the delicate plate in her hand. She was eager to hear the rest of Edward's offer._

_Edward turned to face Charles, his face holding an almost satanic-looking smile. "That you agree to give your niece's hand in marriage… to me. I'll be asking her to marry me."_

_A loud crash was heard from the kitchen._

_Edward's smile widened upon hearing it. He knew that there could only be one answer to the question he'd be asking her... __yes_.

* * *

Charles's face lost all its colour as the words sank in. The crashing noise from the kitchen didn't even register in his brain. He was numb. Slowly, he understood the whole connotation of Edward's offer.

_Give Isabella… in marriage… to Masen… NO!_

His thoughts weren't hidden from Edward, who was more or less expecting him to go into shock. Therefore, he decided not to interrupt Charles's mental tirade against him. If anything, it only succeeded in amusing him. He knew that, after all of his internal rambling, he still didn't have much of a choice; neither did his niece.

Isabella fumbled with the remains of the plate with shaky hands. She tried regaining her composure, but unfortunately, her efforts were proving fruitless. Edward's offer didn't just come as a shock, it devastated her whole world in mere seconds. This was not what she had expected, even in her wildest dreams. Even her thoughts were beginning to betray her, as she tried to make sense of the situation.

_He… no! I... Marry Mr. Masen? Why? Please let it be a nightmare of sorts, God, please…_

Her eyes widened with fear as she thought about a prospective life with Edward. His physical attributes did little to ease the feeling of dread that was filling her. Deep down, her subconscious rang blaring warning bells to tell her that this man was not what he looked like, and that she should probably run away from him as fast as she could.

"This _cannot_ be happening," she muttered under her breath. Many possibilities flashed inside her head, various scenarios that owed their bearing to her decision. One thing she was completely sure about: Edward had not only used her silence in his favour, he had downright trapped her in his web.

_And here, I thought he was a saviour of sorts. What a rude awaking, Isabella. He hasn't left you a choice either. You say yes, and you suffer; you say no, and your uncle suffers._

Knowing that she had to decide fast, lest Edward come up with another sinister plan, she steeled herself emotionally and thought about the whole situation in a detached, practical manner. Clearing the mess of shards at her feet, and reining in her fear at once, Isabella made up her mind. Just then, as she stood up, she heard Charles's blaring voice. He was shouting at Edward.

_Oh God, no! _She hurried out of the kitchen and dashed for the drawing room in panic.

"No!" Charles roared as his anger got the better of him. Never in his entire life had he been so livid. "You think that—"

"Yes! YES! I'll marry you!"

Struck with absolute horror, he turned to face a panting Isabella, who had rushed straight out of the kitchen and settled right beside him.

"Issy…" Charles started to protest, his voice weak with utter delirium at her words.

"No, Uncle, it is _my_ life. Let _me_ decide!" Her voice almost cracked at those words, but she tried to keep it even. Turning to Edward, she forced the words out of her mouth, "Yes, I'll marry you." She tilted her head towards Charles. "Don't mind him."

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but the words weren't coming out. His face paled even further. In a sudden, desperate move to stop her from continuing her insane declarations, he grabbed and half dragged her to his room, not even asking Edward to excuse them. She kept her eyes locked with Edward as Charles pulled her away. Edward smirked and nodded at her.

She repeated herself again, in desperation for Charles' wellbeing, "Don't mind him. I _will_ marry you. Offer accepted..." She trailed off as Charles forced her to turn her head away.

Edward could see the fury behind her calm façade. Her eyes were practically shooting daggers at him as she said yes. Nevertheless, he didn't mind. He considered her fury a normal reaction to such a forced offer.

_But she wouldn't have accepted it otherwise, _he reasoned with himself_. How else was I going to have her then? The end justifies the means._

He considered her last plea, not minding what Charles had said, or rather shouted, at him. Under any other circumstance, Edward would have taught him a lesson, but here, he was ready to let it go. He wasn't complaining in the least, knowing that there was little Charles could do to stop his niece. Isabella had said yes, and in all practicality, that was the only answer available to her.

"Issy!" Charles pulled her towards the far end of his room, as far away from Edward as possible. "Have you lost your marbles? _Yes_? Do you even know what that means? Why? Oh God, Issy, why?" He held her by her shoulders and shook her frantically, as if trying to break a spell cast over her.

She didn't react. She just stared at the wall behind him. "Just leave it at that, Uncle. I said yes, and it's my final answer to his question."

"Do you realize what you're _saying_? You are ready to marry _that_ man? He may have an estate worth many fortunes, he may be as good looking as he is, but he's no angel, Issy. Please…" Charles pleaded, feeling defeated at her unresponsiveness.

"He's not that bad, really. Besides, the substantial estate does help." Isabella knew that her words were inherently wrong, completely distinguished from her actual thoughts, but she pressed on, "He can provide me the things I could never have otherwise." Charles had given her the excuse himself. She was going to use the plea of monetary benefits to her favour.

Charles stared at her in disbelief. "Issy… I can find you a better match, trust me, please."

"This _is_ the best match for me, Uncle. He has even offered to exonerate you of the loans. And… as I said, he's fine enough. I'll manage." She kept her argument going, her voice still lacking any emotion.

Edward raised an eyebrow, hearing their conversation take an unexpected turn. He didn't want to admit it, but a part of him was somewhat unhappy at her reasoning for marrying him. He found it rather queer that she would actually consider his money and fortune as the driving factor.… In a way, it annoyed him to hear such things from her. So he presumed it to be her virtuous nature's consequence._ She's probably just saying it to convince him. Virtuous Kitten it had better be. But how will I ever know?_

"No, Uncle. You're not going to say anything that you will regret later. Just… let me talk to him. I have already said yes, so please accept that," Isabella repeated herself again, as Charles wasn't listening to her.

"But… Issy, do you really want to do it? Think about it, my child. Marriage is not something you decide on a whim. Please reconsider…" Charles was hoping desperately that she'd back out, but she refused to do so.

Isabella knew that if she backed out from marrying Edward, he wouldn't just accept it and sit quietly. _For all I know, I may become a reason for my uncle's misery. I don't want him to suffer. He has already done so much for me. It's time for me to do something for him in return, even though it's downright frightening._

She fought the tears that were now treacherously close to spilling out from her chocolate eyes. "Please, Uncle, just let me do it. I'm now going out to talk to him. Please calm down. You want to see me happy, right? Then just agree."

"That's the whole point, Issy. Are you happy at all? I don't think so…" He wiped a stray tear that had managed to leak out of her eyes. It tortured him to no end that because of him, she was taking such a drastic step. He knew his niece well, and that Edward's fortune was hardly the reason for her decision.

"Yes, I know… I'll be happy. Please don't make it more difficult for me than it already is," she whispered, looking into his eyes as she silently conveyed her fears to him.

_Humans are so melodramatic. It's very stifling sometimes… like now._ Edward almost groaned in frustration as he heard their conversation from outside. It evaded him altogether as to why Isabella used the excuse of money instead of just love, pure and simple. _'And what does she want to talk about?'_

He wasn't left wondering for long.

Isabella emerged from the room and slowly walked up to him. She didn't know from where this strange courage came, but she was determined to talk to him. He smiled at her as she approached him.

She gritted her teeth and began, "I said _yes_, Mr. Masen, and that should have pleased you. But I want to talk about it… in private." Not wanting to give away either her fear or her fury, she tried to keep her expression neutral.

Edward, on the other hand, could feel the flutters in her heartbeat. Even her shaking hands didn't slip his notice.

"Where in private?" he asked keenly.

"Anywhere… out of here." She was surprised by the calm and composed tone of her own voice. _Keep calm. Think of your uncle, his interests…_

"Hmm," he nodded. "How about we take a walk down the path near the woods?"

"Fine!" That came out a bit too harshly than she intended. She peered at him surreptitiously, gauging his reaction. Much to her surprise, his smile was still intact.

Offering his hand to her, he motioned to the door. Very hesitantly, she rested her hand in his, barely giving her fingers to hold on to. His cold fingers made her flinch, and she wondered if he had kept his hand under icy cold water.

As they stepped outside, Charles came out from his room, haggard and distraught. "Where are you _going_?" he asked frantically.

"Isabella here wants to have a little private talk with me, so we are just taking a walk down the path." Edward smirked at him.

"I won't be long, Uncle," she just managed to choke out, her voice on the verge of cracking. Isabella hated to see Charles like that, but more than that, she feared the possible consequence of her refusal to Edward. Compliance was her only option.

"Don't worry, Charles. I'll bring her back safely. After all, she is now _my_ responsibility as well."

She scowled at Edward. In that moment, her heart's true desire was to either shove him away or slap him with all her might.

He tugged at her hand and started walking towards the path, the smug smile still plastered on his face. Once on the path, he entwined her arm in his and moved closer to her. She felt extremely uncomfortable, even claustrophobic, at the sudden closeness. The premise of marriage to this man only added to the tension between them.

Isabella noticed that his walk was more graceful than hers and tried walk alongside him without losing her balance. She hobbled at first, unable to keep pace with him, and ultimately tripped. He caught her before she even realized what happened. She looked at the ground and then up at him, bewildered. Their faces were only inches apart, and Isabella's heartbeat picked up as she realized it.

"Be careful, Isabella." He steadied her but didn't move away, keeping his face close to hers. Once again, his heady smell enveloped her, sending tingles down her spine.

"You walk too fast. This is supposed to be a walk, not a dash through the woods," she accused, her cheeks warming up.

Edward stared at rush of blood to Isabella's face. Her blush didn't make him wildly hungry this time. It made him want to reach out and caress her cheeks instead. His lips turned up in an uneven smile as he thought about his impending wish fulfilment.

"Pardon me for my lack of awareness; I should have kept pace with you." He really did repent his stunted experience with humans. All he knew were their scattered thoughts and unsteady emotions, neither of which was helping him in dealing with Isabella.

"So… you wanted to talk about something?" His hands moved down from her shoulders to clasp her hands. _So soft and warm… wonder how the rest of her would feel next to my skin…_

"Uhh, yes…" her voice wavered as she approached the dreaded question. "Why?"

Her questioning eyes were locked with his, wanting to know the reason behind his sudden manipulation of her life.

"Why what?" He knew perfectly well what she wanted to know; it was far too obvious. But he wanted to evade her question, for he didn't quite know the real answer to that question.

She closed her eyes, feeling aggravated at his noncompliance. "Mr. Masen, would you at least give a reason behind your strange offer? Why did you ask for my hand in marriage?"

Her sudden bluntness caught him off guard, and he backed off a little. He let go of her hands and walked a few steps ahead, trying to think of an appropriate answer to her question. _What shall I say? Because I want to see if I can channel my frustrated desires through you?_

A sudden lull fell, and neither of them spoke for a few seconds. The noises of the forest suddenly sounded louder.

Isabella felt as though the woods were closing in on her. Still, she waited for Edward to respond.

Edward sighed in frustration, running a hand through his bronze waves, "Why do you think a man asks a woman to marry him?"

"I suppose that is not the real question here." She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed with his counter-questioning.

"What? Then what's the _real_ question here?" he asked incredulously. _Why can't she talk and act like a normal human and be a little predictable at least? It's impossibly exasperating to _not_ know what she might say next._

"The real question is, why did _you_ ask _me_ to marry you?"

"I don't understand, Isabella." He turned around to face her, perplexed by her query.

"Neither do I. But you must have had _some_ reason behind your proposition. I want to know that reason, not the general man-woman excuse." She felt a tad emboldened, gauging his discomfort at answering her questions.

Edward's eyes widened a little. He had never seen this confrontational side of Isabella. It only added to his obsession with her.

"The _same_ reason; I want to marry you because I'm a man. I have taken a liking to your company, Isabella. What more reason is needed?" _Would that convince her, or shall I start acting like one of those Austenian men?_

"I don't know. _This_… is not a normal man-woman—_falling in love and getting married_ equation, Mr. Masen; I can certainly gauge that. Does it have something to do with my uncle?"

"Charles has got nothing to do with it! Isabella…" he tried to phrase it correctly, "I want _you_, and that is the sole reason. I didn't want anyone else to court you." He growled a little at the last part of his confession.

More silence followed.

Isabella struggled with the reasoning Edward had given her. It still didn't answer her real question, the question she actually couldn't bring herself to ask. She wanted to know why he manipulated her and Charles, if there was such a simple a reason behind it. She was not ready to buy his answer. Dropping her head a little, she stared at the stray leaves that were scattered along the path, feeling more confused than ever.

Edward glanced at her, not sure if she really was convinced by his answer. He blamed it on his dreadful supernatural existence. Obviously, he couldn't tell her whole truth, which was that he actually wished to satisfy his needs, that only she could satisfy them because her thoughts wouldn't disturb him. _Which would be enough to make her frigid with fear._

"Isabella," he half sighed—half groaned her name. "Just forget about everything else and accept my offer. Treat my proposal as a normal marriage proposal. It will be easier to understand it then, I believe." _Or else I might have to try the Austen way._ He almost laughed at the thought.

Her skeptical stance still didn't change. If anything, his words confused her even more. "I might as well not think about it at all, then," she muttered to herself, not intending for him to hear. He heard it, nonetheless.

Edward smiled wryly, amused at her reactions. He walked back and closed the distance between them. "Then I believe it is all sorted and cleared up? Let us get back to Charles now, or else he might lose his sanity."

Her heart sank at the mention of Charles. She had hurt him by agreeing to marry Edward.

"Mr. Masen? Can I ask something of you?" She looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Of course, Isabella. You're going to be my _wife_ now, go ahead."

She blanched when he said _wife_. "Can you please not be harsh on my uncle? I-I mean, he is very sensitive, and right now he is hurting. It doesn't mean that he doesn't want me to marry to you, just that it was so unexpected. Please don't take his previous reactions to heart." She looked away, fighting the tears again.

"You think I'm harsh towards him?" he asked softly, curling his arm with hers again.

"I fear that you might be, after what he said to you… please?"

He nodded. "Fine, I won't bother him. But you'll have to promise me something."

She looked at him apprehensively, afraid that he might want something else from her, something precious to her.

He smiled at her. "Don't worry, it's nothing much actually. I just want to invite you for a visit to your future home. This coming Wednesday shall be a good day for it. Will you?"

She exhaled slowly, relieved. Nodding at him, she started walking towards her uncle's house.

"I will come to escort you in the morning. Take care of Charles, and of course, yourself." He brought her hands up and planted a kiss on each of them. "Until then, goodbye."

She stood at her doorstep, watching him climb into his carriage. After his departure, she turned and pushed the main door open. Her feet felt dead as she dragged herself inside. She went to Charles's room to check on him, fearing that he might be in an even poorer condition than before.

Charles was sitting beside his bed, his head resting on the edge of the headboard. His shoulders were hunched and his hands clasped a leather bound folder. Isabella came up and sat beside him.

"Uncle?" Her voice was a soft whisper. She had never seen him so distraught before. Upon hearing her voice, he turned his head in her direction and gazed into her eyes. His eyes held a defeated look.

"You know," he said, handing the folder to her. "Clara also wanted to name our daughter 'Isabella.' We couldn't do it, because we never had any children. But whenever I saw you, I saw that daughter in you; the daughter I could never have. Clara would have been so proud of you… my selfless and kind daughter." He stroked her head affectionately, admiring her courage.

"Open it and see." He pointed towards the folder.

Her eyes were brimming with tears as she fumbled with the strings of the folder. Inside it, she found a family portrait of the Swans, which had her late grandparents, her parents, and her uncle and his late wife in it. The traitor tears started flowing freely from her eyes as she traced the portrait with her fingertips. "You never showed it to me before."

"Keep it," he managed to utter in a shaky voice.

Isabella looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Uncle," she choked up, unable to say anything else.

Charles shook his head, unable to stand her unfounded apology. "Why are you apologising, my child, when I am the one to blame? I'm so weak, so helpless," he sighed in defeat.

She shifted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Neither are you to apologise. It's not your fault that a devious man decided to manipulate us," she sniffed.

He brought his arm around her shoulder and held on to her, as though she would disappear suddenly. Neither of them said anything, letting the silence prevail. Talking about it made both of them feel miserable.

After a few minutes, Charles shifted and turned his head towards Isabella. "Issy… please don't do this. I know why you said yes. This is not right," he pleaded again, the desperation getting to him. "I can pay him back by working hard. I've been doing it! He has no right to force this hideous offer on us. I'll find you a good man, someone who will take care of you and love you, unlike this cold-hearted, antisocial creature."

She shook her head wildly, horrified at his suggestion. "No, Uncle. Don't you understand? If we decline, then he will make your life miserable! I know it! Haven't you seen it in his eyes? Even he knows it! I cannot afford to make your life even more difficult than it already is."

"But, Issy, you marrying him is not going to make it any less miserable for me. It fills me with dread to think of you as his wife, living with him in that dark fortress. He would take your freedom away, Issy. I don't want you living like a prisoner."

"Uncle, please, see it my way. If I marry him, then he'll not be harsh on you. If I don't, then he'll still make us both miserable by troubling you," she pressed, adding "And Uncle, he hasn't been harsh on me. He has always treated me like a lady. Perhaps marrying him wouldn't be that bad?" She tried to convince him, even though she herself was not convinced of Edward's seemingly harmless behaviour towards her.

After another attempt at persuading her to refuse Edward, Charles gave up. He felt completely helpless and knew that Isabella was not going to change her mind.

"Uncle, I think you should rest. Please don't keep thinking about it. It will only add to the misery. I'm going to my room. Now, promise me that you won't dwell on it." She took his hand and squeezed it, trying to soothe him. He nodded, wiped his eyes, and gave her a faint smile.

Once upstairs, she sat on the edge her bed and held her shoulders in an attempt to comfort herself. Slowly, the consequences of her acceptance were dawning upon her. The numbness gave way to fear, and panic closed its grip on her. She started rocking back and forth, still hugging herself, thinking about the duties of a wife.

Isabella didn't know much about a husband-wife relationship beyond the public appearances; the private, personal dynamics of such a relationship were lost on her. Her mother hadn't told her about it, and she knew that she obviously couldn't talk to her uncle about it. She had seen her parents interact, but it was obvious that her relationship with Edward was not going to follow the same pattern.

Then, the thoughts about the husband-wife _deed_ came, and she shuddered violently.

_I'll have to kiss him; this much I know… but how? I don't even love him. Ugh._

"I'll have to kiss a man I don't love at all. I'll-I'll have to… have to… bear his children." She gasped at the thought and willed herself to stop thinking about it.

_Oh God, why couldn't he find someone else? Why me?_

She started sobbing silently and tightened her arms around herself.

_I will come to escort you in the morning…_ His words drifted into her thoughts, reminding her that she would need to go with him on Wednesday.

"Bloody incarnation of the devil," she muttered furiously. "I would never have said yes to him if I hadn't been bound like this."

She stretched out on her bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to forget about him. After sobbing for another hour, she finally drifted off to sleep, too tired to keep her eyes open. Even in her dreams, Edward was not letting her go.

* * *

"Is she all right?"

Isabella could hear the soft murmuring of Angela's voice.

"For how long?" The voice drew closer, accompanied by Charles's.

The soft murmurs continued as Angela stroked her forehead softly.

"Mmmhh, Aangela?" Isabella tried to open her eyes, but her heavy eyelids resisted.

"Issy? Dear, are you sick? You look so… tired and--"

Isabella jerked her head up and opened her eyes, immediately regretting it as her head hurt from the sudden action.

"Your eyes are swollen. Issy, open them up! Have you been crying, Issy?" Angela's voice rang with alarm as she grew more and more concerned for Isabella's health.

Isabella groaned and turned away from Angela. "I just have a headache. Nothing to be alarmed about," she mumbled, closing her eyes again. Then, as she heard Angela mutter something about Charles being worried, the events of the morning came crashing down on her again.

_Give your niece's hand in marriage… to me._

_ I want you, and that is the sole reason…_

She sat up, feeling bewildered again.

"Oh god, Issy, you look horrible! What have you _done_ to yourself?" Angela grabbed her shoulder and pulled Isabella into a tight hug.

"What is the time? Where's my uncle?" she groaned, burying her head into Angela's shoulder.

"It's past noon. Do you want to tell me what is wrong?"

Breaking the hug, Isabella moved away and crawled out of the bed slowly. "I didn't prepare lunch. It's going to be late. Uncle must be wondering, must be hungry," she prattled away distractedly.

"Issy, I already called for the food. Mr. Swan told me that you weren't feeling well. Now, please come here and sit with me for a while." Angela watched her as she shuffled around her room, fumbling with things arbitrarily.

_ She's trying to cover it up by acting normal, but I see a fit of hysteria coming._ Angela fisted the fabric of her skirt anxiously, worried sick for her friend.

Isabella acted as though she hadn't even heard Angela. She kept on ignoring her pleas to tell her what was wrong. _What am I to say? That because we don't have the means to pay him back, Mr. Masen bought me from my uncle instead?_

"All right, don't tell me. But I think I know about it."

Isabella whirled around to face her, panic written all over her face.

"But I shall prefer your version of it. I know marriage is a terrifying thing, but your state is beyond terrified; you're downright hysterical, Issy." Concern ran in every word Angela said.

Realizing that Angela knew, Isabella fell apart. She covered her mouth with her hands and slumped on the floor. Angela fled to her side and grabbed her arms to pull her back to the bed.

"Issy! Oh God." Tears ran down Angela's cheeks as she saw her friend breaking down.

"I don't know if I can handle it, Angela. I don't know how I'm going to manage it. I'm so scared; I don't even love him. And to be a wife to a man you hardly know, I just cannot fathom that." Isabella sobbed away as Angela wiped her tears.

"You know, Issy, most marriages are like that."

Confused, Isabella looked at Angela enquiringly.

"Yes, Issy," she continued, seeing Isabella's perplexed expression. "Most women don't get the benefit of choosing their husbands." Walking towards the window, she went on, "My parents are an example. My mother didn't know my father before marriage. It was arranged by her parents, who solely chose my father on the grounds of money." She turned toward Isabella, smiling weakly at her. "My father… well, he isn't the most pleasant person. He has his own set of notorious habits, namely drinking and…" she stopped midway, feeling embarrassed.

"And?" Isabella had momentarily forgotten about her problem. The pained expression of Angela was something she had never seen before.

"Women."

Isabella scrunched her eyebrows. "Women? You mean…"

"Yes, Issy," Angela exhaled heavily. "My father has mistresses." Then, lightening up a little, she chuckled darkly. "But at least, he is discreet about it, unlike that pig Henry. I was glad that he didn't come for the Ball."

The mention of Henry made Isabella tremble, but she pushed the bad memories aside, more concerned for Angela. "Y-You mean, Mr. Webber has relations with other women? Then…" She couldn't even bring herself to complete the sentence. _Poor Mrs. Webber. Such a nice lady, and this is what she got in marriage?_

"Yes, Issy. My mother cannot complain. Wives don't have a right to complain. Not that I am anxious to follow such a norm, but that _is_ the norm." Angela's eyes narrowed with resentment. "Anyway, that is a different matter altogether. You tell me, what did _he_ say to you which made you so insane?"

"He who?" Isabella averted her eyes, trying to avoid the question.

"He who proposed to you, silly girl. Mr. Masen. Kindly tell me?" Angela was perplexed with the fact that Isabella was so broken up because Edward had proposed to her. She had somehow always perceived it to be a certainty, given the way Edward used to look at Isabella.

"What has my uncle told you?"

"Everything, from pardoning of loans to having your hand in exchange for that. Oh yes, and Mr. Swan's also behaving in the same manner as you are. You both really dislike Mr. Masen, don't you?"

"Give me a reason not to!" Isabella literally shrieked at Angela. "He's treating me like a commodity. He has bought me from my uncle, Angela. I'm probably nothing more than a possession to him, like his art collection."

"That's what _you_ think."

Isabella stared at her friend in disbelief. "What in the world does that mean, Angela?"

"Did you ask him why he did it; why he wanted your hand in marriage?" Angela's expression remained calm as she asked that.

"Yes, somewhat."

"Well, what did he say?"

His words echoed in Isabella's mind as she thought about her conversation with him.

_Why do you think a man asks a woman to marry him?_

_The same reason… I want to marry you because I'm a man. I have taken a liking to your company, Isabella. What more reason is needed?_

_I want you, and that is the sole reason. I didn't want anyone else to go a-courting you._

_Isabella, just forget about everything else and accept my offer. Treat my proposal as a normal marriage proposal. It will be easier to understand it then, I believe._

She told Angela everything; every question she'd asked, every answer he'd given. Angela listened to her intently, her eyes wandering in different directions as she thought about the whole situation. And then, when Isabella finished, a smile slowly crept upon her lips.

"Kindly tell me what you found so amusing in there?" Isabella felt a little disgruntled at Angela's strange behaviour.

Angela's smile grew as she spoke, "Issy, dear, he has laid it out for you, and you still don't see it? Granted, he is not very good at expressing himself, but from what you have told me, the reason is very simple."

Isabella eyed her suspiciously. "You know the answer?"

"At least he didn't tell you that he's marrying you because you can cook, or sew, or be a good mother, hmm? He told you that he likes your company. What does that mean?"

"I don't know. Go ask him." Isabella replied petulantly.

"It means that he likes being around you, Issy. He wants to have your company, wants to be around you. And then, he said that he _wants_ you. Oh God, Issy, what else is there to say? He wants you!"

"Like a possession."

"No, you're only harping about the possession argument because he asked for your hand in exchange for a favour to your uncle. Didn't he say that he didn't want others to court you? See, he was a little desperate, if I may say that, to be the one to court you first. He probably didn't want the others to get to you before he did. Or maybe…" She tilted her head sideways, pondering a little, and then pointed at Isabella. "He somehow knew that you wouldn't be too keen on accepting his proposal if it weren't for some condition attached to it."

Isabella shook her head in dismay. "I don't understand why you're advocating for him. He is evil, Angela. You didn't see that almost diabolical glint in his eyes when I said yes to him."

Angela was not convinced. "Perhaps you want to see it like that. Desire can be interpreted as something evil."

Isabella's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Angela? Desire? What have you been up to? You talk like a… I don't know, desire is lust, and lust is wrong."

Angela laughed at her and wiggled her eyebrows. "You know, Issy, you're too naïve for your own good. Love is what? It is a desire for someone. If you say desire is lust, then it can be an expression of love. If you get love from the same person, you get lust, then it shall be heaven."

"Angela, what have you been _reading_?" Isabella was having a hard time digesting what her friend was saying.

"Nothing, silly, just my opinion on a few things. I clearly don't belong to the group who thinks that women are not supposed to feel desire or lust. Though, you're the only one I have shared my views with."

"But obviously. You'd be scorned for even thinking like that."

"I can take it if love is on my side. Coming back to you, I think Mr. Masen is not such a bad choice. He cares for you. He desires you. That is so much better than treating you with a minimalistic attitude. I don't think he'd desire any mistresses. The way he sees you, it is as if he can only see you and no one else. Have you realized that?"

"No, I'm usually far too concentrated on not being terrified of him. He's overbearing."

"You are thinking too much, as he says. Don't think about it; just accept it. Sometimes, you think that the most horrible thing is happening to you, but in the end it all turns out to be good for you. _This_ might be one of those things. Stop wrecking your health and sanity over it."

"Then what shall I do?"

"See him as your would-be husband. Try not to think about that offer of his. Just think of him as a man, a man who desires your company. You might be able to see the light then."

Isabella sighed heavily. "Easier said than done," she muttered.

* * *

Isabella hunched her shoulders as Edward held her waist and guided her towards the Masen manor. She tried to keep from bolting, sensing it wouldn't be such a good idea.

Edward could feel her hesitation, owing his vampire senses, but he couldn't understand the reason behind her nervousness. _She has come here before. What is so different today? She seemed perfectly fine the last time I showed her around._

"So, Isabella, what would you like to have?" he asked in his best non-threatening tone.

She stared at the floor, feeling awkward. "I don't know. Nothing really."

He narrowed his eyes at her, not convinced with her answer. _Just say it already. I don't have much patience with human food. Has she eaten properly, though? She looks weak._

He pondered upon her diet for a while, then let it go for the time being. _Will think about it later. Feeding the human will be an important task._

"Wh-where are we going?" she stuttered as he took her upstairs.

"My room."

Once inside his room, he asked her to sit on the plush antique sofa seat on the other side of the bed. She did as he said, anxious to see what he was up to.

He went over to the huge mahogany chest of drawers in the corner and retrieved a tiny box from it. Bringing it to her, he sat down on one knee and asked her to open it. She stared at it for a moment, trying to decipher what it was, then, growing impatient; she just pulled the lid open. Inside it lay a beautiful ring with a ruby in the centre, surrounded by a cluster of diamonds.

Isabella gulped. The beauty of the ring captivated her but scared her at the same time.

Edward pulled the ring out of the box and held it in front of her. "Like it?" he asked her earnestly.

"It's-it's beautiful." She didn't have any other word to describe it.

He smiled at her answer and asked her to give her hand to him. Again, she did as he said, though the temptation to yank her hand back was ever present.

"Marry me," he murmured softly, his eyes burning with intensity.

Isabella nodded in approval, unable to form a valid sentence due to the effect of his scorching gaze. He slipped the ring on her fourth finger, sealing the deal of a betrothal between them.

Edward's lips twitched into a breathtaking smile, he truly felt elated at this moment. He had waited for this moment for many a decades, never really sure that he would have gotten a chance. The ring had been made as per his instructions. He ordered for the big ruby to be set in the centre, because it reminded him of Isabella and her humanity, the red of the ruby being her blood. The diamonds surrounding the ruby represented Edward himself, hard and eternal.

Pleased with himself, he held her soft hands in his and moved closer to her. "Bella, I want to try something," he whispered as he drew his face closer to hers.

_See if I can handle it. Let it be good, let me not go after her blood. NO! I will NOT kill her, I'm strong enough._

Her breathing hitched as she saw him coming closer. She had been able to deal with the situation fairly well so far, but _this_ she had not anticipated. Her heart hammered in her chest as she saw his lips approaching hers.

* * *

**DENIED! (lol!)**

**But really, the chapter was so long as it is. So yeah... sorry guys!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Ms. Meyer owns Twilight and all of it's fabulous characters. I only own the Deliciously Dark Monsterous side of Edward. (Not even that I guess.) No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N:** **_I wonder why the responses dipped in the last chapter. But anyway, I still love the ones I got. Total WIN. Thanks guys. Oh and I seriously didn't want to be a cockblocker, but the chapter length was being a bitch._**

**_So without further cockblocking, here you go._**

* * *

"Bella, I want to try something," he whispered as he drew his face closer to hers.

_'See if I can handle it. Let it be good. Let me not go after her blood. NO! I will NOT kill her, I'm strong enough.'_

Her breathing hitched as she saw him coming closer. She had been able to deal with the situation fairly well so far, but _this_ she had not anticipated. Her heart hammered in her chest as she saw his lips approaching hers.

* * *

Completely bewildered by his sudden urge to kiss her, she tried to think of a way out. _'Oh God! Think Issy, think! What did Angela say? - Just think of him as a man, a man who desires your company - No, that won't help.'_

As he closed the distance between them, her head turned slightly in an involuntary move to avoid him. His lips ended up caressing her soft cheek instead. A shudder went through her body as she felt his cold lips on her heated cheek.

Edward had been able to note her evasive movement, but he hadn't stopped, for he wanted to feel her hot skin on his lips. He just about stopped himself from groaning in pleasure as his lips came in contact with her skin. Her taste was as exquisite as ever. He was overwhelmed by the sweetness of her skin. Yet, he didn't lose control. His lips lingered on her cheek for a while, then sensing her discomfort, he withdrew. He smiled at her as his eyes found hers. Her blush deepened under his gaze. This made his throat burn with thirst, but he didn't let it overpower his other urges.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Masen, it's just that… I-I ha-"

He stopped her by placing his finger on her lips.

"You don't have to explain yourself," he replied. "Besides, your cheek felt exquisite. I can only wonder about your lips." He stared hungrily at her alluring lips for a second, then turned his attention back to her eyes.

If possible, Isabella turned a few shades redder upon hearing his compliment. Edward laughed lightly, startling her a bit.

"You aren't used to taking compliments, I see. Might as well get used to it. I'll not be easy on you."

She bit her lip nervously and tried to smile, still not sure if he might try to kiss her again.

He moved back a little but kept her hands secured in his. "So, tell me, what type of wedding would you like? Grand and opulent, or a small and quiet one? "

She hadn't thought about it. Nevertheless, even now, as much as she tried, she actually didn't care. "I don't have any preference," she replied softly. _'Who cares about executions anyway, this way or that, you are going to end up dead only.'_

He pondered upon it for a while, not sure himself. He had never paid any attention to weddings, even within his former coven. "Hmm, we'll see. How about the date? When do you want to fix it?"

"I thought that parents were the ones who decided upon such trivial matters." She wasn't enjoying this conversation one bit.

"Well, that being the norm, I'm afraid I can do little about it. My parents have been long dead. Therefore, I'm left with no choice but to decide myself." He grimaced, thinking about his parents and their faint memories that he desperately clung to. "As for you, I don't know if Charles is ready to talk about it yet."

Isabella stared at their conjoined hands as she thought about Charles. "He is still a little…" She didn't know how to explain it to Edward.

He nodded in reply and continued, "That's nothing to be worried about. I believe he's concerned about you, which is understandable. I'll talk to him myself in a few days."

The idea of Edward talking to Charles again didn't quite go down well with Isabella. The last time had almost been a disaster, and she didn't want a repeat of it.

"No," she blurted suddenly. "I'll talk to him. Then I'll let you know."

He flashed his typical uneven smile. "Are you trying to protect your uncle?"

"Umm, no…" She frowned. "Just trying to avoid a useless confrontation."

"There won't _be_ any confrontation," he stated smugly.

She sighed at his argument, not really wanting to be a part of it. "You promised me."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "About what? You know, your truncated sentences leave me frustrated." _'If only she knew how she frustrates me…'_

His confession gave her a bit of satisfaction. She wanted to keep him frustrated. "I try to minimize the exertion. I was talking about your promise to not be harsh on my uncle."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "you kept yours, so I'm not going to break mine. I won't say a thing to him, won't try to get back at him, won't try to harm him in any way. Happy?"

She gave him a slight nod, still looking at their hands.

"But I do want to fix a date, the sooner the better."

Isabella grimaced at his words, clearly not in a hurry to be wedded to him. "What's the hurry?" she asked tentatively, meeting his gaze finally.

Edward sighed in reply, again not knowing what excuse to give her. "I have," he struggled to put forth a convincing answer, "waited a long time. The loneliness is getting to me."

That made her wonder. _'Long time? How old is he anyway? He doesn't look that old. In fact, he looks pretty young. Then, his reasoning might be purely farce.'_

She shifted awkwardly, remembering Angela's words. Then, on a whim, she decided to change the flow of their conversation. "You didn't call me by my full name. Why?"

"Why, your uncle also uses a sobriquet for you. Why not me, then?"

"Well… I'm not used to the one you call me by."

"You don't like it?" He started tracing slow circles on her wrists with his thumbs. "You know what 'Bella' means in Italian?" He could feel her pulse over there, and he enjoyed feeling it with his thumbs.

She shivered at his soft caresses but certainly not from the cold of his hands. "Umm, no, I don't speak Italian." Her voice came out a little strained, which surprised her a little.

"Well, it means 'beautiful' or 'pretty', both of which suit you just fine." His eyes twinkled with wicked charm as he said that. His ministrations on her wrists didn't cease. The slow, lingering movements were sending strange pulses down her spine. She tried to identify it as fear, but it didn't quite fit there. It felt as though her lower body was weightless, and she felt an urge to squeeze her legs tight. She was so lost into the strange sensations, that she didn't even notice her increasing heartbeat.

He smiled with satisfaction. "I'd prefer to call you Bella, if you would allow me, that is. Do you mind?"

"No…" she replied without even thinking much about it. The sensations within her body were meddling with her thinking process. Her answer came out as a breathless whisper, and she realized that she was breathing heavily, akin to some sort of exertion.

"Bella…" he sighed her new name reverently. "Thank you."

He got up and pulled her to her feet. "Come with me. I have to show you something."

She felt out of balance as her body refused listen to her. Her legs felt a little wobbly, but she kept up with him. He kept a hand on the small of her back and led her downstairs, out of the manor.

Outside, he called for an attendant and gave him a nod. Isabella observed him carefully, feeling more in control of her senses. Soon, a brand new horse car drew towards the main entrance. It was even fancier than his usual type, and it had two pretty looking white horses at the front.

Edward watched her intently as she took in the details of the carriage. Her reactions were becoming his newfound entertainment. "This," he said, gesturing towards the horse car, "is for you."

Her eyes widened in response, and she jerked her head in his direction. "But… I don't think I—"

"I don't want to hear any objections on this matter. It is yours, end of argument," came back his rather curt response.

Taken aback, Isabella almost flinched at his brusqueness. She lowered her head, feeling offended. All that she wanted at that moment was to be home, in the familiar and soothing surroundings of her room.

Edward sensed her distress right away. "Bella," he murmured as he came closer to her. "It came out wrong. It's just that I didn't want you to shun my gift away. You have a habit of doing that. I didn't want you to say no to it. I don't like it when someone refuses my gift, especially you." He tilted her head up and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I apologise."

She looked up at him with an apprehensive expression, not really trusting his apology. But his fingers on her cheek were distracting her again.

He softened his expression and tried his best to look repentant. _'I don't apologise to humans, so she better take it. This woman makes everything so damn difficult.'_

She looked away and nodded, much to his relief.

"I have given you a chauffeur as well. You will have him at your service all the time. And don't worry about the maintenance of either the carriage or the chauffeur; I have already taken care of that." He opened the carriage door for her and continued, "You just have to enjoy the experience; the problems, _I_ can handle. Now, tell me, do you like it, or shall I get another one for you? Tell me what your heart desires, and it will be done."

She sat inside and pondered upon his question. _'Should I tell him that I don't prefer such fancy things? Ugh, he probably won't be pleased with that. -- Just say what he wants to hear, and it will be over soon.'_

Edward settled in right beside her, an expectant look on his face.

"Well," she started, "I do like it. But where will the chauffeur stay?"

He noted her troubled expression and sighed again, frustrated at her continuing barrage of questions. "I thought I told you not to worry about it."

Sensing the finality in his tone, she decided to let it go for the time being. "Thank you." She tried to end this conversation.

He moved closer to her and whispered in her ear, "You don't need to thank me for anything from now on. I'll feel insulted if you do."

A frisson shot through her body as she felt his cool breath on her neck. The strange tingling began again, and she found it difficult to speak. "I-I think… I n-need to go back now."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kept his mouth close to her ear. "Of course." He squeezed her arm slightly to make her relax a little.

Ordering the chauffeur to get going, he turned his attention back on her. "So, I was wondering, when are you planning to talk to Charles, you know, regarding the date?"

She cringed a little at the return of her least favourite topic. It really was the last thing she wanted to talk about and probably the last thing she wanted ask Charles. But she had to give a convincing reply to Edward, otherwise, she knew that he would keep coming back to it.

"I haven't planned about it, but I will surely talk to him. A wedding is a big event, so it may take more than a month to make the requisite arrangements," she replied matter of factly.

"Sure," he agreed, unhurriedly stroking her bare arm with his hand. "But I can take care of every arrangement. Charles won't have to do much, then. Just set a date, and let me know."

Her breathing faltered again, an involuntary response to his leisurely strokes. Edward smiled at her responsiveness, pleased with his efforts. All through the ride, he kept on with his feathery touches. At the end of it, Isabella found herself feeling extremely restless and jumpy. Sometimes, when his hand traced along her shoulder, she almost did wish for it to go beyond and touch more of her skin.

As the carriage came to a stop outside her uncle's house, Edward leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek again. His lips stayed there longer than usual, faintly sucking on her creamy skin. She shuddered again. The sweet pleasure that coursed through her body was foreign to her, and that scared her.

Upon entering the house, she dashed straight towards the kitchen and splashed water on her face. The water was cold, and it should have shocked her senses back to normal, but it didn't help at all. The coldness of the water reminded her of Edward; his hands, his lips, his smooth skin on hers.

_'What is WRONG with me? I should feel revolted at his touch! I shouldn't wish for him to touch me, then why…?'_

Her internal battle raged on as she went to her room. Edward was not her prince charming. In her eyes, he was a diabolical manipulator, nothing more than that. Then certainly, her urge to feel his hands baffled her.

"I must talk to Angela," she muttered to herself. "The only one who I can tell. She might give me a plausible explanation. If not that, then it'll help me get it off my chest, like a confessional."

* * *

"Bella…"

She shivered, feeling his cool hands on her skin. They traveled up her arms, slowly tracing her warm skin. His fingers drew irregular patterns on her skin, stroking, caressing her in a way that seemed almost sinful. She whimpered and looked into his golden eyes, that strange sensation rippling through her body again. His eyes burned and completely possessed her.

Isabella was powerless against his touch. She wanted to tell him to stop, but it felt so pleasant; she couldn't utter a word. He was staring at her with that same wicked glint in his eyes. His hands moved to her shoulders, slipping inside the fabric of her chemise. Her breathing stuttered, and she drew in a deep, longing breath. Once again, his heady smell clouded her senses.

Unable to control her reactions anymore, Isabella uttered low moans of pleasure.

"Mmmhh… M-Mr. Masssen…"

She lurched ahead on her bed and opened her eyes. Her hands felt clammy, and beads of sweat clung to her forehead.

"A dream…" she reasoned with herself. "A really bad dream… a nightmare."

Her whole body felt extremely sensitive, as if she hadn't been sleeping at all. She groaned and hid her face in her hands, an attempt to forget about the dream. More than anything, it was the feeling of immense pleasure that petrified her. Isabella couldn't understand why or how she was feeling what she was feeling. It felt wrong, yet she knew that she hadn't felt bad or repulsed in the dream. The site of Edward touching her, watching her with those hungry eyes, didn't make her cower away from him. Instead, his touch felt soothing and enjoyable.

_'I have lost my mind. I cannot possibly like it. It is all so twisted!'_ she screamed in her mind.

But deep down, she knew that she was changing. She was beginning to respond to Edward, although, not ready to admit it yet. It worried her, even beyond the prospect of marrying him. Isabella wasn't so sure of her feelings towards him. She hated him, but a part of her--the curious part--wanted to experience his alluring touches. A want to feel Edward was beginning to take a grip on her, even though she managed to hush it down for the time being.

That night, and numerous other following nights, she didn't sleep well. Edward just wouldn't let her…

* * *

"Uncle, what is this?" A very disgruntled Isabella shoved a stack of letters into Charles's hands. He recognized it the moment he saw it, and his face showed guilt.

"I-uhh, Issy, well…"

"You went _begging_ for money?" Her voice became shrill with anger; anger at herself, not him. Then, abruptly, Isabella collapsed on the sofa in a fit of tears.

She hated herself more than ever at this moment.

Charles had gone to every source possible to try and get some monetary help. He had hoped to repay Edward as quickly as possible so that Isabella could be saved from his clutches. However, he received nothing but rejection. He even went to Mr. Webber, but got nothing in return. His efforts had borne no fruits.

Isabella had found the letters in his room while cleaning. It broke her heart to see how much Charles had struggled for her sake and suffered as well. He had put everything on line for her, even his self respect.

"I'm sorry, Issy, but I couldn't just accept it. I couldn't just sit and watch while that devil took you away from me." He bent down and hugged her tightly. It eased her hiccups a little.

Wiping her tears, she turned towards him and mumbled, "Just have to accept fate sometimes, Uncle. I have…"

"It's very hard for me, Issy. The anger still burns inside me, even though it has been two weeks since… his damned offer." Charles hated Edward thoroughly. He wished nothing but his demise.

Isabella shifted a little, feeling the inevitable dread as she spoke, "He asked me about the date."

"Date?"

She looked away and continued, "The wedding date. He wants us to decide fast, says that he wants an early wedding."

Charles grumbled under his breath. He was beginning to lose his temper again.

"Uncle, anger isn't going to help us. Let's just decide upon a date. It will be easier on me that way. The more I think, the more difficult it gets," she stated dejectedly.

Charles gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa. A moment of tense silence passed, where Charles attempted to control his anger. Isabella stayed quiet, not knowing how to soothe him.

After a few minutes, Charles finally spoke up, "Give me some time to think about it… without losing my temper. It's difficult for me as well." He stroked her head, "But I won't make it more difficult for you, my child."

After he left for work, Isabella busied herself with her daily chores. That way, she was able to suppress the trivial problems of her life. The plain daily chores simplified everything, even thought processes.

* * *

The next day, she cornered Angela for disappearing on her.

"Where _were_ you, Angela? I thought some ogre took you away!"

Angela hesitated a bit, thinking of the best way to explain herself. "I-uhh-well, not an ogre." She giggled. "I'll explain, but you have to see it with an open mind."

She then caught site of the brilliant ring on Isabella's finger and forgot about her excuses. "But, first, what is _that_?" she exclaimed, pointing at it, "Is it what I think it is?"

Isabella rolled her eyes and raised her hand to show it to her. "Yes, it is. The final nail in the coffin."

Angela smacked her hand as a reprimand for talking like that, then pulled it back in her hand to examine the ring.

"Ruby, hmm, interesting choice. It sure looks exquisite. And it fits perfectly."

That alerted Isabella. She never thought about the perfect fit. _'How did he manage that? I don't remember him taking any measurements.'_

"He… must have gone on a hunch. I assume it's just a coincidence that it fits perfectly." Albeit, Isabella herself was not convinced with that reasoning. The uncannily perfect fit caused her to doubt this theory. She made a mental note of asking him about it and to see how he would respond.

"Angela," she went back to the original topic, "where were you all this week? Oh, and not only that… If I count correctly, it's certainly more than a week. You completely forgot about me. If you were having problems, then why didn't you share them with me? I always do."

Angela dropped her hand and started pacing in front of her. "It's-It's Ben."

"Ben? Cheney? Your friend?"

Angela nodded. "And he's not a friend anymore."

"Huh?"

"Oh Issy, not that our friendship perished. He and I, well… it's more than a friendship. He proposed to me."

Isabella smiled at her, feeling happy for her friend. "I knew that you two would end up as a couple. And what a handsome couple at that!"

"Yes, Issy. But the problem is that he wants to wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes, he said that he wants to wait till he completes his studies. He wants to officially ask for my hand after he has become successful in his own right." Angela huffed in frustration.

"But… he's right. He would be treated with more respect then." Isabella gestured for her to sit down next to her.

"Yes, Issy, I know! But I won't be sitting here, without any suitors coming my way. It's a blessing that Forks Prairie is such a lonely place. But even then…" Angela frowned as she thought about the prospective suitors that might bother her.

"You can say _no_ to them. You aren't under a compulsion to say yes… like I was."

"That is what I am saying! I just told him to at least let my parents know. They wouldn't mind at all. They already like him. But he is so stubborn sometimes."

"But he loves you, and you love him back. That is just so beautiful." Isabella sighed wistfully.

Angela shook her head. "It is a good thing that my father will never give me away to a man I don't want. I'm ready to wait for him. We have decided to keep seeing each other surreptitiously till then."

"But what is the use of such meetings?" Isabella couldn't control her laughter.

"Well, we get more acquainted with each other." Angela's eyes twinkled with anticipation. "It's like I can't stay away from him. I know why, but really, I'm ready to drown in love." She wiggled her eyebrows at her. "So, coming back to you. Other than the ring, what else happened. You look troubled again. Tell me."

Isabella shared her anguish with Angela, who was more than ready with her explanation. "Well, it certainly means something. It means that you are finally taking my advice."

"What advice? Kindly explain, Angela," Isabella urged her impatiently.

"To see him as your would-be husband. You are finally beginning to like his company, I believe?" Angela looked at her inquisitively.

Isabella let out a humourless laugh and stomped towards her friend. "You really think so? His company is oppressive, if anything. I'm talking about his touch; it is driving me _mad_."

"Mad in what sense?" Angela seemed unfazed by her petulant anger.

"Mad in the sense that it makes me hate myself. I don't like him, then why does it feel..." Isabella was having a little trouble admitting it, "...pleasant, when he kisses me or touches me otherwise."

Angela's eyes twinkled with curiosity. "What? He has kissed you?!"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "On the cheek, Angela, on the cheek! But well… he did try."

"_Tried_ to kiss you properly? Oh, Issy, you must have refused him." Angela shook her head in amusement. "When will you learn? You are going to get married to that man. Refusing to kiss him now will not serve you any purpose. Sooner or later, you'll have to kiss him properly, and well… _much more_."

"I'll delay the sentence as much as I can. Why do you always have to remind me of these things, Angela? I wish to numb my mind and skip over these matters."

"That won't help you. It will only make you more miserable." Angela rubbed her shoulder gently and gave her explanation, "When you have agreed to marry him, you have to accept these things. Accept that he is going to touch you and kiss you. And as to why you like it, well, I'd suggest that you don't think about it. Thinking complicates certain things. There is no valid answer to your question. Perhaps your body likes him more than your mind." Angela grinned at her mischievously.

Isabella couldn't fight against the power of Angela's smile. "You have a rogue mind," she accused her, smiling in return. "Fine, I won't think about this matter. But I must admit, it scares me to feel this way. It is stranger than anything I have felt. This _emotion_, I can't place it anywhere; not anger, not fear, not even happiness. Maybe a mix of all of them, but strange nonetheless."

Angela knew what it was but kept quiet. She didn't want to scare Isabella more than she already was. _'Some things, I suppose, she'll have learn by herself. It will be easier for her to accept her feelings then.'_

Both of them were lost in their own thoughts, in completely different worlds altogether. Isabella was still trying get acquainted with this unfamiliar emotion, while Angela was readily feeling it already.

"Let's go downstairs. I have to prepare lunch." Isabella got up from her bed and waved to Angela. "Angela, where are you?"

Angela woke up from her daydream and smiled at Isabella. "A happy island."

"Really?" Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Give me the address as well, please. I'm in dire need of it."

Angela laughed in response and accompanied her to the kitchen. "You can't be on _my_ happy island; everyone has to find theirs. Don't worry, you'll find it eventually."

A knock on the main door alerted them, and they went straight to attend it. Isabella became nervous; she wasn't expecting anyone at this time. Unexpected visits reminded her of Henry.

"Who is it?" she asked with a shaky voice.

But Angela didn't stop for the answer from outside. She opened the door in a hurry, as if knowing who was outside. Isabella looked at her in horror and tried to stop her, but Angela was faster.

Outside, standing with his arms wide open, was Ben. Much to Isabella's surprise, Angela literally jumped into his arms.

"What took you so long? You're late!" she accused, grabbing at his shoulders.

Ben grinned at her and enveloped her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Angie, but-"

She stopped him mid-sentence by kissing him full on the lips.

Isabella stood there, a spectator to their intimate embrace. It baffled her, the way they were both so unabashed with each other. Angela behaved as though she had a right over Ben, and he just seemed to verify it. Their kiss reflected their need, their love for each other. Angela grabbed his neck and pulled him closer, while he deepened the kiss into a more passionate one. The air crackled with the intensity of their desire.

Isabella's jaw dropped. She had never seen such a thing before. All she had known was chaste kissing. What Angela and Ben were doing was far removed from that. She could see their tongues reaching out for each other's, hungry and wild. Averting her eyes from the couple, she moved away to the kitchen. Her face was red, but she didn't know if she was embarrassed or enraged. Once pondering on it, she ousted rage, citing her reaction as embarrassment only. But the strange thing was, she could feel the intensity emanating from them. And it wasn't the first time she had felt such intensity.

Isabella closed her eyes, in order to remember the time when she felt that sort of intense crackle in the air.

_'Bella, I want to try something…'_

Edward's silken voice echoed in her mind. Her eyes snapped open suddenly. She knew then, where she had felt that feeling before.

* * *

Isabella was out in the backyard, hanging up clothes for drying, when she heard the galloping of horses' hooves. Putting the clothes aside, she rushed towards the main entrance of the house to receive the person outside. She opened the door quickly, believing it to be Angela. But it wasn't Angela at the door.

"I thought I told you to always enquire before opening the door." Edward's lips twitched as he said that, but his tone remained serious and stern.

Isabella dropped her gaze and gave him a short nod. _'To give the devil his due, he is right. I shouldn't have opened the door in such haste.'_

"I-I thought it was Angela; she usually comes here at this hour only." She could feel her ears heating up already. _'Why do I always end up making a fool of myself in front of him?'_

Edward shook his head and grinned at her. "You always have an excuse ready."

She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling infuriated at his accusation. "We'll see how many excuses _you_ present after our wedding."

Silence prevailed for a few seconds. They stared at each other, curious emotions running through them.

Isabella's face was now completely crimsoned from her latest gaffe. Her own words resonated inside her head, embarrassing her to the extreme. She had talked about their wedding in such frivolous manner; it seemed so light and chirpy a matter.

"I haven't seen you talking about it like this before. I'm immensely glad to see the change," he spoke, finally breaking the awkward silence.

She avoided his eyes and walked inside, prompting him to follow. Silence was like a respite to her, and she intended on maintaining it. _'You, anyway, talk like an imbecile when he's around; better to stay quiet.'_

"So, I suppose you were working? Busy with clothes or cooking?" he asked, attempting small talk. It was all new to him, the humanness, the unnecessary conversations and emotions. He had tried it once before, when he was with Carlisle and others. He tried to blend in with humans, like the others, but the attempt was half hearted. The reason, as cited by him, was that he didn't need that interaction.

"Yes," she answered him back, feeling a compulsion to say something again. She chewed on her lip nervously as she stopped herself from inquiring him of his reason to visit her.

Edward didn't miss any of her actions; she always had his full attention. "Is there something you wanted to say?" He raised an eyebrow, his eyes fixated on her lips. _'Let me bite that lip for you…'_

She folded and unfolded her hands as she carefully chose her next words. "Well, I was wondering… what brought you here. I mean, you sure are a busy man. Was anything bothering you?"

Edward's face reflected confusion and curiosity. "You didn't talk to your uncle about the wedding date," he replied, almost sure that she hadn't.

Her face drew into a scowl. "I did. What makes you think that I didn't? He said he needs some time to think upon it, might take a few days to fix it."

"But why is it taking so long for him to decide? I already told you that you don't need to worry about any of the arrangements."

"It's not about the arrangements, Mr. Masen," she said, anger evident in her eyes. "My uncle needs some time. It is a severely difficult decision for him. Have some sensitivity at least, if not compassion for your loyal employee."

Although he managed to keep his face neutral, Edward was definitely stunned by her little diatribe. He opened his mouth to speak but was at loss for words. For the first time in his long existence, he was left speechless.

Isabella stared at him, expecting a cocky reply, but none came. She shuffled her feet and waited for him to respond, but he just kept staring at her. The awkward silence got to her again, and she spoke up finally, "We-we'll let you know as soon as we decide upon a date." She looked down again, rankled by his silence. _'For the love of God, say something!'_

Edward pursed his lips and replied, "I will take that into consideration. But… shall I say that I request you earnestly do not take this marriage as a contract. I intend to make you my wife for the obvious purposes, not to get even with Charles. Let go of that impression, please."

He moved closer to her, to hold her in his arms again. She panicked and stepped back. That halted him and made him retreat.

"Bella," he tried again, remaining at a distance. "You have to see this as more than just an arrangement. It might be too sudden for you, but believe me, my intentions are not misplaced."

Sincerity was written all over his face, and Isabella felt a tug at her heart as she took his words in.

_'Please let her believe this. This is possibly the nearest to truth I can get. It isn't that I don't intend to make her my wife. I'm just going to concentrate on the physical gratification, though. Other things will be taken care of…'_

She nodded at him in silence, feeling strange upon hearing his latest confession.

"I think I have disturbed you enough for a day, Bella. I'll take your leave now."

He started moving towards the door, hunching his shoulders a little for the purpose of convincing her.

She stared at his retreating form, feeling somewhat disconcerted. Then, in a pure instinctual move, she trailed towards him and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He stopped right there and turned around to face her.

Edward gazed at her in amazement, his eyes asking her the obvious.

"I-I." In a flustered state, she tried to come up with a credible reason for her actions.

"Yes, Bella?" he prompted.

His intoxicating breath wafted towards her, momentarily dispelling her inhibitions. "I… wanted to wish you good bye." _'Wanted to see if it happens the same way… if I can feel it with him…'_

Her answer confused him, but he waited nonetheless. Her thrumming heartbeat was making him wonder, as well as her hitched breathing.

Isabella stared at his handsome face, willing herself to act on instinct again. Her hands trembled as she planted them on his shoulders to pull him towards her. Edward didn't move at first, but as he felt the tug of her hands, he complied. She stood on her toes, trying to close the distance, and that made her lean into him.

He then realized what she was trying to do and decided to take matters into his own hands. His hands encircled her waist and pulled her closer. He felt triumphant with his efforts so far. _'She finally gave in to my charms. I finally get to taste that saccharine mouth of hers. Sweet victory.'_

Tipping his slightly, he leaned in and stopped when his face was close to hers. His thirst shot up. The venom flowing into his mouth nearly distracted him, but he didn't move away. He willed himself to stay in and take what she was giving.

Isabella was watching him, breathing heavily as she felt him moving in. Very slowly, he closed the distance between them, his own breathing laboured. Controlling the thirst took a gargantuan effort from him, but he did it nonetheless.

Finally, their lips brushed together in a feathery caress. But it was enough to ignite a fire inside Isabella, who planted her warm lips more firmly against his cold ones. It was against her nature to do so, but she couldn't control her actions at this moment.

Edward pulled her closer, tenderly moving his lips against her. It was hot against cold, fire against ice, and it overwhelmed both of them. Her hands grabbed fistful of his coat as he hungrily latched on to her lips.

Edward groaned into her mouth, reveling in her sweet freesia and lavender taste. His instinct told him to go further and take more. An urge to bite her luscious lips right there was beginning to take over. It would be pure bliss for him, but he wanted to more than that. So, he tried to ignore that urge.

Isabella whimpered, her body completely betraying her. The intensity she had felt before was now flowing between them with full force. There was no searching, no doubting, just wanting. It was like a craving, a hunger which desperately needed satiation.

Edward was struggling with twin hungers, but he kept himself under control. He knew that if he faltered at this moment, he'd never have a chance to go beyond this in the future. But even in his controlled state, he felt a part of him giving in. He enjoyed it thoroughly, while his unyielding lips acquainted themselves with her soft, cushiony ones. It was heaven, and he didn't want to stop. But he knew that if they kept on, he'd either suck her dry or ravish her right there. Thus, he pulled away slowly, albeit, reluctantly.

Unable to keep her balance, Isabella kept leaning on to him. She rested her head against his shoulder as she caught her breath. Her mind was unable to function properly at this moment, and in a way, she was glad for that. His sweet taste still lingered on her lips, delicious and even more potent than his smell.

Edward's voice was strained as he spoke, "I'd love to receive such heavenly goodbye kisses in the future as well."

His voice brought her back from her inert state. Her eyes refocused as she realized what had just happened. _'Oh. My. God. I didn't just… I did…'_

She moved away from him awkwardly, not even daring to look into his eyes.

"Although I have no intention to leave, I must." He traced her cheek with his hand again. "Take care, Bella." With that, he left, leaving her alone to ponder upon what had just happened.

As she remembered the kiss again, her legs gave away. Plopping into the nearest sofa, she shuddered with pleasure and shock.

_'I kissed Mr. Masen, and I liked it. And contrary to my wishful thinking, I'm not in a nightmare. Oh God!'_

* * *

**_The kiss was difficult. I was so damn frazzled, I feared that it wouldn't come out right. I hope I did justice to it._**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight. I have only turned Edward into a _deliciously devious monster_, and I guess that part remains with me. No copyright infringement is intended.

First of all, this chapter is dedicated to our beloved _**Katy Perry**_, for obvious reasons. :P

**A/N: **_Thanks for the glorious reviews. Keep em' coming! I was so overcome by the appreciation my little first timer's kiss received. Gah, I love you guys! _

**_Of course, they won't retract now, the kissing threshold has been broken. So, it will only get more and more lemony from now on (cause our poor Edward cannot bear it anymore)._**

_Everyone was asking, **"Where the hale are the Cullens!"** Well, here they are……._

* * *

Edward Masen was a happy man. He was extremely satisfied with himself. Perhaps, more than satisfied. He had accomplished something that he hadn't even thought of attempting, not until Isabella came into his life. And now, the whole possibility to have her the way he wanted seemed within reach.

But he felt even more glad for the fact that Isabella had initiated their first kiss. Of course, he never expected her to, but it came as a pleasant surprise. He wanted to know the reason behind her sudden boldness but decided to wait. _I might ask her later, _he mused_, when there is less resistance from her. Right now, I can just revel in the memories of that kiss._

He sighed, remembering the pillow-like softness of her lips. The want to kiss them again was already growing inside him. Her warmth still called to him, like a siren song. He was ready to dive into the depths of the pleasure that Isabella offered. Suddenly, the wedding looked too far away in the future. And the urge to have her to himself was growing like a tidal wave.

Upon reaching his manor, Edward exited his carriage thinking of nothing but Isabella. He was so lost into her that he almost failed to notice the familiar smell that now marked his abode. And then, as the miasma of his desire dissipated, the thoughts from the other side started pouring in.

It was another vampire, a vampire he knew too well.

He hurried inside, feeling ill at ease. Every corner of his house was coated with that known scent. But there was only so much a person could do to hide from Edward. The thoughts came from the backyard, and he went straight ahead.

There, in the backyard, stood his sprite-like vampire sibling.

"Edward! You took longer than I thought. Usually, you take much less time to find people."

"Alice..." he grumbled under his breath. "What brought you here?" The sudden appearance of his former coven's member didn't go down well with him.

Alice smiled back brightly and answered in her typical nonchalance, "You know why I'm here, of course you do."

She proceeded to hug him, but he backtracked. The hurt from his actions was evident on her face.

"Edward, why do you treat us like this? We are your family," she said softly.

"If you remember correctly, Alice, I _left_ your _coven_." He shifted away from her. Her arrival came as a blow to him. From her thoughts, it was clear why she was here. And that didn't make him one bit happy.

"We still treat you as our own, Edward. You're still a brother to me, a son to Carlisle and Esme," Alice tried to move him with words. Edward knew that she was not the person to give up so easily.

"Ha! As if," he ridiculed her. "If anything, Esme should be my younger sister."

"Still, she would love you the same." She flitted towards him. "Do you have any notion how much Esme missed you? You sure don't acknowledge it, but we all love you immensely."

Edward looked away. He wasn't ready to welcome his so called vampire family. His association with Isabella had just found its fair bit of footing. He didn't know how they would take this union. Besides, he didn't want a whole coven of vampires hovering around her.

Alice shook her head and smiled softly. She decided to communicate with him telepathically._ Edward, we all know about her. Of course, I know that you don't want us to intervene. But we aren't here to intervene. We're here to partake in your wedding._

His head snapped up in surprise. He certainly hadn't expected that. "What? You mean… you aren't here to stop me?"

She shook her head again and continued verbally, "No, Edward. My brother has finally found a mate. Why would I ruin that? And how could you even think that I'd miss _your_ wedding? You really thought that you could get away with it?" She flashed him a knowing smile.

"You had a vision of the wedding," he grumbled.

"But obviously." Alice sounded immensely glad. She could see the future, and Edward's decision to marry Isabella certainly didn't slip her visions.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling anxious and relieved at the same time. "Others are here as well, aren't they?"

"Yes, my dear brother. No one wanted to miss your wedding." She wrapped her arms around him from behind. "We are all so thrilled, Edward. We are so happy for you."

He nodded and turned around, out of her arms. "Where are they?"

"Hunting." She patted his shoulders to reassure him. "They don't want to take chances with the human bride."

"Especially Jasper," he muttered, thinking about her husband's flimsy control around humans.

She nodded, but her enthusiasm didn't slip one bit. Her gleeful smile never faltered.

He smiled in return, unable fight her charm. "Why didn't you go with them? You should have hunted as well."

"Yes, I know. But I came here first just to tease you. I'll go at night."

"All right. Now tell me, you don't have any devious plans about the wedding, right?" He could hear her thoughts already. She wasn't going to let this wedding slip by so easily.

"I think you have an idea about my plans, Edward. I'm not even asking you. I _am_ going to organise this wedding, so just give in."

He laughed at her child-like enthusiasm about the whole wedding affair. For once, he was relieved. His vampire family wasn't going to interrupt him. Isabella was very much within his reach.

"As I already know, Alice, you won't listen to me anyway. So, yes, you're allowed to plan and organise the wedding."

"Great!" She clapped her hands in anticipation. "Now you'll get to see my organisational prowess."

"I have no doubts about it," he replied, taking her inside the house.

* * *

"Would you tell me more about it?"

"No."

"How did it feel?"

_Sinful… but it was heavenly… _Isabella straightened her thoughts immediately, feeling guilty. "No."

"How long did it last?"

"I don't know."

"How deep—"

"Angela!" Isabella's face was hot with embarrassment. Angela's questions regarding her first kiss were making her cringe.

"Sorry, Issy, for the last bit. That was just to tease you." Angela squeezed her hand and gave her a playful smile. "You're just too shy. I wonder how he'll deal with you." She burst out laughing, while Isabella slapped her hand away.

"You're just so evil, Angela. I feel for poor Mr. Cheney." Isabella imitated her friend's tone just to get back at her. Angela just kept laughing at her.

"But tell me this much," Angela said between her bouts of mirth. "Did you like it or not?"

Isabella forestalled her question and looked away. But Angela kept insisting. Finally, realising that she didn't have any way out, she answered, "Yes, Angela, I did like it. And that's the irony of our situation. I don't like him per se, but… this kiss, I don't know how to define it. It just made me feel so different."

"At least, _that_ is not a problem between you two. You're responding to him, Issy… you might just like his company in the end."

"I don't know, Angela. I'm not sure if I even want to think about it. Let's just go downstairs and talk about something else. Don't make me nervous."

Angela did listen to her at last and changed the topic to herself and Ben. She shared her childhood memories with Isabella, while they both had their lunch. After cleaning up the dining table, they sat in the back garden. Isabella was busy sewing, while Angela prattled away about Ben.

Noticing her struggles with the needle, Angela couldn't help but ask her, "Issy, why are you troubling yourself with all this sewing? You're going to marry a sickeningly wealthy man. Why bother? There will be plenty of servants to do the job."

Isabella made a face at her. "Doesn't make any difference to me. I'm bad at this. I must improve."

Angela smacked her forehead, feigning frustration. "Issy, you're such a strange creature. Anyway," she waved at her sewing kit, "this won't impress him. It's your cooking, darling. That will bring him down on his knees."

"You know, Angela..." Isabella dropped her sewing apparatus and thought aloud. "I was wondering… should I learn other recipes, or will he be satisfied with my current culinary skills?"

She did want to keep Edward satisfied as a proper wife. _It would please him. He would be easy on Uncle,_ she thought,_ I can strive to be a good wife, at least in the ways I can._

Angela was about to answer back but stopped midway. A messenger was at the door, and she could see him from where she was sitting. "Someone's at the door, Issy."

Isabella went to check on it. The messenger gave her a written note and then left. It was a note from Edward. She opened it and read it aloud for Angela's sake.

"_Dearest Bella, I'm sending this note to inform you that you are invited to your future home, the coming Saturday. My kin want to see you, and I couldn't deny. They are eagerly awaiting your visit. I will be escorting you. See you on Saturday morning. Yours truly…_" She couldn't continue. The prospect of meeting his family left her voice weak with apprehension.

Angela quirked her brow, keen to know Isabella's reaction. "Well?" she prodded.

Isabella huffed and grimaced. "I thought that he didn't have any family to begin with. Now suddenly, they crop up from somewhere. I swear, Angela, he does this to unnerve me."

"Could be his extended family. Be reasonable, Issy. He's getting married. It's understandable that his family came here to see the lucky bride," Angela tried to reason.

"_Lucky_, Angela?" Isabella spat back unthinkingly.

Angela rolled her eyes at her. "I was just trying to explain, Issy. You're ready to bite my head off."

Isabella covered her face with her hands and apologised for her caustic tone. "I'm really sorry, Angela. I'm so confused and scared."

Angela hugged her and rubbed her back in soothing circles. "It's all right, honey, I understand. But you cannot avoid this visit. Meeting the family is a ritual most important. Don't be scared. Everything will be fine."

"I can only hope so, Angela. I wonder how they will treat me, what they might expect of me." Isabella mused about Edward's background. _He's a wealthy man, certainly belonging to the highest social order. I have only read about the high-class noblemen and their families._

"What are you thinking about, Issy?" asked Angela, noticing her distant look.

"I was just thinking… am I 'lady' enough for them? Would they scrutinize my manners? I never thought about it before, but Mr. Masen is certainly from a very sophisticated background. How am I supposed to behave around them?" The worry in her voice was evidence enough of her doubts about herself.

"I think you're a perfect lady, Issy. I'm a self-professed brat, but you're the opposite of me. You're everything a man desires in a woman, Issy. Don't you dare look at yourself in a demeaning way." Angela grabbed Isabella's shoulders and gave them a little shake. "They will be enchanted by your very presence… in no time at all."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now stop doubting yourself and think about your ensemble for the grand meeting," Angela chirped. "Which reminds me, have you thought about the trousseau? You will need to buy a lot of things, Issy. New clothes, accessories, shoes…"

Isabella looked at her in panic. "_Oh my God_, Angela! I hadn't even given it a thought. Now that you've reminded me, I don't have much with me to begin with. A few laces, jewellery, a dress or two, perhaps… but nothing else."

Her brow creased as she thought about her new problem. They weren't very big on money as it was, and the impending wedding was going to incur a lot of expenses.

Angela rubbed her chin, lost in thought. "Dear Mr. Masen should have thought about it," she muttered.

"I'm not going to beg him, Angela. These are the expenses a bride must make on her own, through her parents." Asking for money was the last thing Isabella wanted to do, especially from Edward Masen.

"All right, honey, don't fret. Right now, your prime concern is this weekend's meeting with his family. Take care of that first, then we'll plan about the rest of the things." Angela tried to usher in some calm.

Isabella nodded, but her thoughts still remained unsettled.

* * *

Isabella was combing her hair in the morning, hurrying to get ready quickly. It was the day of the dreaded meeting with Edward's family.

Charles came up behind her and held her shoulders. The anxiety in the room grew to palpable proportions.

"Where's Angela?" she asked, an attempt to ease the claustrophobic atmosphere around them.

"Outside, taking a walk." He stepped away and shuffled around the window, struggling with his next words. "Are you sure that you don't want me to escort you?" He sounded sceptical, as he never expected Edward to be the courteous kind.

"Yes, Uncle. We both know how jovial you both are around each other," she answered, exasperated at his repetitive question. "How many times are you going to ask me?"

"Sorry, Issy." He exhaled uncomfortably. "But as your uncle, it is my duty to escort you. I don't like the notion of letting you go alone." Charles had never heard of Edward's family. All he knew was that his parents had died long ago. The sudden appearance of a family made him suspicious.

"I'm not going alone. Mr. Masen will be escorting me. I went alone with him the last time as well."

Charles stiffened at the mention of Edward's name. Isabella was watching him all along, and the change in his posture did register with her.

"I never said that I approved of it back then as well."

She wiggled her head and set the comb on her dressing table. "I know that it's difficult for you, Uncle. You don't like him, and that is why I don't want to force you. I'm getting married to that man, Uncle. I need to adjust to the new life."

Charles opened his mouth then closed it, undecided as to how he should approach her. "I know, Issy, and I have mended my ways," he whispered, rather to himself.

Isabella stood up and turned around to face him. "Mended your ways?"

He nodded. "And I have decided upon the date."

"Oh…" Suddenly, Charles's words made her knees weak. She sat down again, letting the shock settle in. His decision brought her closer to the wedding day. Her heart thumped in her chest, ready to burst out.

_Not even a month away… This should please Mr. Masen… _she thought torpidly.

Charles could see her panic, but there was little he could do to palliate it.

"Issy!" Angela burst into the room and rushed towards her. "The carriage is arriving soon." She noticed her blank expression. "And you look… like you've seen a ghost."

She turned to Charles, her eyes demanding a reply. Charles shrugged reluctantly and told her about the wedding date. She nodded and returned her attention Isabella, who still looked lost. She decided not to discuss wedding date with Isabella at this moment.

"All right, Issy." Angela pretended to be unaffected by the news of her wedding date. "Let me see you through." She clasped Isabella's hair in a few hair-combs but kept it open and flowing in waves around her shoulders. Checking her face for any blemishes of powder, she turned her towards the mirror. "My little princess, you look perfect. He won't be able to take his eyes off you."

_Or hands_, thought Isabella, as she remembered the soft caresses of Edward's hands. There _was_ a part of her that was looking forward to those caresses.

Downstairs, Edward was already waiting for Isabella, filled with anticipation. The decision to let his vampire family meet her was a tough one for him. He was apprehensive at first, for he didn't know if her blood would attract them in the same way as it pulled him. But Alice was keen on meeting her, and she assured him that all of them would be on their best behaviour. Nevertheless, after her badgering and constant threats of meeting Isabella on her own, Edward had given in. He knew Alice very well, therefore, he knew that there was no other option than to let her meet Isabella.

At last, he saw Isabella appear at the top of the stairs. The urge to dash upstairs and claim her lips again was strong, but he kept himself within limits. He knew that Charles was around, and he didn't want him to burst into hysterics. Along with that, he remembered the promise he had made to Isabella, of not being harsh on her uncle. Therefore, he waited for her, ever so patiently.

Gingerly, Isabella descended the stairs, consciously avoiding Edward's eyes. They always made her nervous, and she didn't want to fall flat on her face. But as soon as she stepped down the last stair, he took her hands in his and kissed them reverently. The same old feelings of desire erupted inside her, and she found herself trembling at his touch.

"Bella… as beautiful as ever," Edward breathed into her hands, skimming his nose upon her wrists briefly to inhale her enchanting scent again. Not that his throat didn't burn as a result or that the venom didn't pool in his mouth, but it was much better than before. As the days passed, he felt more and more in control of his thirst. He had grown unprecedentedly more confident of himself around her.

She gave him a sheepish nod as he raised his head back. "H-How have you been? How's your family?" she asked.

He drew himself closer to her, his face level with hers. "I've been… restless," he answered with a heavy sigh. "And my family is eager to meet you. But don't let that bother you. They'll be on their best behaviour."

Behind them, Charles and Angela looked on, both filled with contrasting emotions.

Charles wasn't expecting such close proximity between them, and he wished nothing but to yank Edward away from Isabella. But his hands were tied in the wraps of an engagement between the two. Therefore, like a reluctant father, he looked on as Edward clasped Isabella's hand and turned towards him.

"Charles," Edward greeted him with a curt nod. "I'm taking Bella to meet my family. It might take longer than usual, but I promise to bring her back by the end of the day." There was hint of disdain in his voice as he said that.

Isabella glared at Edward and tugged at his arm. That caught him by surprise; it was the first time Isabella had shown a sense of control over him. A part of him liked it, and a part of him didn't. Nevertheless, it aroused him in a strange way.

"That's fine, Mr. Masen," Charles said after a pause. "I'll be waiting…"

Charles's thoughts assaulted Edward's mind, giving him a peek into his perspective. _At least she's not the one to bow down to him, _Charles thought proudly of Isabella._ She will hold her own._

Angela remained quiet, but her eyebrows had a mind of their own, quirking and scrunching as she tried to assess the situation. All in all, she was happy for Isabella. She could see the desire in Edward's eyes and assumed that Isabella would hold his attention all the time.

Edward caught her thoughts readily and smiled at her in return, acknowledging her positive point of view. _One less person to convince_, he thought triumphantly.

It was then that he caught the fleeting thought of the wedding date in Angela's mind. Although he couldn't make out the date clearly, he could gauge that the date had been set. But Angela was suppressing the thought, as though trying to keep it at bay. That piqued his interest.

He searched inside Charles's head, to get a drift of the same thought. But Charles's mind was a very quiet one. Like his niece, he sometimes went mute on Edward. _This_ was one of those moments. And it frustrated Edward no less.

Isabella looked at Edward questioningly. She wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible, to avoid seeing the pained look on Charles's face. With another soft tug on Edward's arm, she made her intentions known.

Edward gave her a slight nod and wished farewell to Charles and Angela.

Once inside the carriage, Isabella felt her nerves betraying her again. Edward's presence was the culprit, as always. He brought his arm around her and held her close.

"What are you thinking?"

"Hmm?" she barely got that out of her throat. His hand was on her arm again, and just like that, she was losing herself to an eerie haze.

"Bella, I think you heard me…"

"Nothing actually… or perhaps, how did you know the size of my ring finger…? The ring fits perfectly," she mumbled away. Her internal censor never worked when Edward was so close to her.

Beside her, Edward tensed. He hadn't assumed her to think on those lines, but as always, she took him by surprise.

"Well," he began with his flimsy answer. "I didn't. It's just a heavy coincidence that your size is the same as my late mother's. I had given one of her rings for the size, assuming that it might fit you. And it did."

Isabella considered his answer for a while, but in the end, she wasn't completely convinced with it. But she knew better than to argue. Thus, she remained quiet afterwards.

Edward promptly returned to his exploration of her arm. That disarmed her again, and she forgot about the bothersome questions that usually occupied her mind.

"Bella, we have arrived," he informed her as the carriage came to a halt.

The chauffeur opened the door for them and waited outside. Isabella became tense again. She had thought of informing Edward about the wedding date on the way to his house but had forgotten about it completely.

Edward perceived her hesitation and thus, sent the chauffeur away, to attain more privacy. Turning back to her, he looked on imploringly, waiting for her to respond.

"I forgot to tell you…" she spoke up finally. "The date has been fixed."

Edward's hold on her tightened at the mention of the date. "Really?" He nudged her chin with his index finger and turned her face towards his own. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

She stuttered in response, "I—uhh—Uncle just told me this morning."

He pleaded for her to continue and tell him the date, his eyes eager.

"August… the thirteenth," she told him, her stomach filled with fluttering butterflies.

Edward smiled, and it was a smile of redemption. His long wait was over, finally.

"Oh, Bella…" He pulled her closer and glided his thumb over her soft, inviting lips.

She stammered as he drew nearer, "Ar-Are you satisfied with th-the date?"

"More than..." He closed the sentence on her lips, brushing them with his own.

Isabella stared at him in shock, she wasn't expecting him to be this quick. But then, his lips slowly started sucking on hers, and the miasma of desire enveloped her totally. Her eyes fluttered closed as her body responded eagerly. The voice of logic in the back of her mind issued a warning, but the cause of the warning didn't register with her in that moment. Her lips moved of their own volition, melding with his.

Edward's eyes soon began to lose their golden tint, therefore, he had to retract. He let go of her lips with a parting glide of his tongue, savouring their warmth and sweetness, which he craved like an addict.

Isabella rested her head back into the seat and licked her lips in an involuntary move. The intoxicating sweetness of Edward's mouth lingered over her lips, and she couldn't help but lick them again.

Edward watched her with utter fascination as her tongue darted around her lips. The action aroused him.

But suddenly, he realized what she was doing. It was his deadly venom that she was licking so readily. Of course, as a lure, it tasted as sweet as his scent. For a brief moment, his brow creased, and he felt a sickening drop in his stomach. _She's licking my venom… would it be…safe?_

But then he remembered Tanya and her coven of female vampires, who sought human males, not as meals but as lovers. He knew that the venom wasn't poisonous if ingested or touched. It only became active when injected into the bloodstream. Therefore, Isabella was safe, and he felt a strange sense of relief at the realization, which surprised him. But he quickly concluded that it was because of his own frustration that he got worried. His carnal repression had reached such gargantuan levels, that now, even the thought of losing that warm, luscious body was like a malady.

His time with Tanya had only added to his woes. It was akin to rubbing salt into his wounds, with her head filled with numerous thoughts of her other lovers and scenarios before him.

He brushed aside the thought of Tanya, for it brought bitter memories, and concentrated on Isabella alone.

Isabella was still swimming in the sensations invoked by Edward's kiss. _How… why… how does he do that? Why do I desire him in this way?_ She asked herself, feeling helpless against her own emotions.

He held her hand again and whispered in her ear, "Others are waiting, Bella. Shall we?"

That jolted her back to reality, and she got all flustered again. She cursed herself internally for being so easily overcome.

Inside the manor, Carlisle and his whole family waited with palpable anticipation. Although they weren't sure as to how they should welcome Edward's fiancée, they felt curious nonetheless. And as Isabella entered the grand hall with Edward, their curiosity only grew.

With his arm curled around her waist, Edward held Isabella close while he introduced her to his family. "Isabella," he addressed her by her full name, which surprised her, "this is my extended family."

Even though they all looked inviting and friendly—except Rosalie—Isabella couldn't shake off the odd feeling of discomfort as they came closer. She cited it as nervousness, and tried to act normal.

Edward introduced each and every one of his coven individually, along with their _supposed_ relation to him. Carlisle and Esme were his uncle and aunt, and Alice and Emmett were their adopted children. Jasper Whitlock was Alice's husband, while Rosalie was introduced as Emmett Cullen's wife, which was true to their vampire existence as well.

At first, Isabella just stared at them, awed by the beauty they all possessed. But then, she alluded it to being a family trait, for she thought of Edward as being exceptionally handsome. She was especially struck by Rosalie, all regal in her perfection. _Don't think I have seen a woman so beautiful before… but she looks unhappy. I wonder why, _she mused.

All of Edward's family kept their distance from Isabella, as Edward had warned them not to come too close. But Alice wasn't one to listen. She went straight ahead and enveloped Isabella into a hug, while the others looked on, horrified.

"Bella, I'm so pleased to meet you finally," she exclaimed enthusiastically, ignoring the low growl that erupted from Edward's chest.

Isabella heard the strange sound but didn't get a chance to ponder upon it, as Alice grabbed her hand and pulled her to a sofa.

"We were living in England all this while, therefore, I assume that you haven't heard much about us," Alice continued, further telling her about their life in England.

"And now, we have come here to settle down in this country. The good ol' England had us thoroughly bored."

Isabella nodded and listened as Alice chirped away. But she noticed the others' silence; it felt strange to her, that only one person of the family would talk to her.

As if reading Isabella's confused expression, Alice quickly involved others in the conversation. Carlisle and Esme were more forthcoming, while the blonde ones, Jasper and Rosalie, remained silent for the most part. And even when Jasper did speak, Isabella could hardly understand him beyond a few words, owing to his typical Yorkshire twang, which she was unfamiliar with.

Emmett looked to be the most cheerful of the lot, apart from Alice. He would constantly quirk his brows at Alice's ramblings, then smile brilliantly at Isabella. But that was about the most that he did. Isabella had a feeling that he was keeping quiet as a conscious attempt.

In all of this, Edward was the most uncomfortable. He wasn't very keen on the idea to begin with; Isabella's close proximity to other vampires was bothering him. Along with that, he didn't like the way Alice had taken hold of her. He wanted to keep Isabella to himself. Sharing wasn't one of his virtues, nor was patience.

"Alice," he interrupted her. "I think Isabella has had enough of your chatter for the day." He smiled at her, but the threat beneath that smile was clear.

Alice smirked in return, but her eyes held a clear challenge. _Oh, Edward, already taken by the green eyed monster? See, Bella likes me, and we are going to be very good friends. So just shut up, and let her be._

Behind them, Jasper shifted uncomfortably, feeling all the bizarre emotions that filled the hall. The discord between Alice and Edward was making it even more difficult for him. _I 'ate my power. Bloody emotions! And they know I 'ave to deal with my thirst as well._

Edward let out a frustrated sigh. As it was, Alice's antics were irritating him; Jasper's thoughts only added to it, especially his Yorkshire accent. _And wait till Emmett starts off,'_ he told himself mentally. _It will be all brilliant, like a damned circus._

"For the love of all that is holy, don't open your damn mouth, Emmett," he hissed in an extremely low voice, audible only to vampire ears. "And you too, Jasper. Enough with thy mental tirade." He spoke in Jasper's Yorkshire style, just to mock him.

The tension between the occupants of the room wasn't missed by Isabella. She could gauge that something was amiss but couldn't put a finger on it. There were many things that she had already noted: they all looked similar, yet, their features were far removed from each other; Emmett and Jasper didn't speak much; Alice appeared to be falsely cheerful; and Edward looked worried…

And then abruptly, all the tension evaporated, as though it wasn't even there to begin with. Isabella was sure of the discomfort a while back, but now, a feeling of calm was all she could sense. _How bizarre…_ she thought, confused by her changed emotions.

"Oh, Bella, it just slipped my mind." Alice got up suddenly and gestured for her to do the same. "Come with me to my room. I have to show you something." _And don't you dare follow us, Edward, _she warned him mentally.

She took Isabella upstairs to her room, while Edward just stared at her in disbelief. _This is why I left them… _he thought resentfully_, bloody want to control me. I'll have to do something about it, and do it soon enough._

Feeling Edward's distress, Jasper sent another wave of calm and happiness in his direction. It was Jasper's power only, that had maintained the peace so far.

Edward growled at him, not at all grateful for his help. "Do _not_ attempt to control me, Jasper. Not a bright idea."

Jasper shrugged and smirked at him languorously. "I was just trying to 'elp."

Emmett chose that moment to give his two cents. "Don't be so 'ard on Jasper. And, Edward, she is juicy. Oi approve." His booming laughter echoed inside the hall, making Edward flinch.

* * *

Isabella was lying on her bed, with Angela beside her, a day after she had met Edward's family.

"So, how did it all go? How was his family?" Angela wiggled her eyebrows at Isabella, prodding her to divulge all the details of her meeting with Edward's family.

"Well..." Isabella deliberated for a moment. "What shall I say? Strange? Uncomfortable? Or perhaps, bizarre?"

"Why?" Angela propped her head up on the pillows, looking surprised by Isabella's answer.

"I don't know, Angela. It was so uncanny. They are all so perfect, unbelievably handsome…"

"And _that's_ the problem?"

"No, not that. They look the same, but they are very different from each other."

"Yes, Issy." Angela made a face. "I understood that completely."

Isabella shook her head, not knowing where to begin with. "I—eh, well, they are all pale, like Mr. Masen. Even their eyes appeared to be the same, though I'm not sure. Some of them never came close enough for me to see. And then, some of them just didn't speak up. There was Mr. Whitlock, Alice's husband. He had a funny accent."

Angela giggled. "How do you define _funny_?"

"You will have to converse with him to know that. I couldn't understand half the things he said, when he only spoke—I believe—one or two sentences. It's like… he eats up the words from between."

That sent Angela into another fit of laughter.

"And in all of this, Mr. Masen was not happy. I don't know why or how, but he looked very uncomfortable." Isabella thought about Edward's reactions, which left her bemused.

"Must have been the nerves of introducing you to his family. After all, he's a young man, not used to such attentions." Angela was forthright with her logic again.

Isabella huffed and decided to let the matter rest. "Let's pretend that it was so. But Angela, you have got to meet his cousin, Alice. She is a _maelstrom_! I tell you, Angela, I haven't seen anyone so full of life," she confessed. "She is enthusiastic about everything. I believe you two can make a really scary pair."

Angela hit her with a pillow, but Isabella went on, "Oh, and I forgot to mention. She has actually brought things for me… for my trousseau. There are laces, velvets, and silks of all kinds."

"Whaa…" Angela's mouth hung open in shock.

"Yes… of course, I refused at first. But I've learnt my lesson with this family. They don't take _no_ for an answer. I was told that I can't refuse, and that the responsibility of my bridal trousseau rests with her." Isabella scowled a little at the thought. It only reminded her of her own financial strains, the very reason behind her coming wedding.

"But I thought that I'd help you with it," Angela protested petulantly.

"I told her about you, and she said she'd like you to help as well, as you're my dearest friend. She was talking as though she already knows about you. Another reason why I say that you'd make a notorious pair."

That earned Isabella another pillow blow.

"Let us see who this Alice Cullen is."

"Now she's Mrs. Whitlock I suppose," Isabella pointed out.

"Ah yes, as you say, Issy… Mrs. Whitlock it is." Angela smiled, and feigned a scowl at Isabella. "But, Issy, I swear to God, if you start any of your antics while we get your trousseau together, I'll team up with her and tie you up."

"Why, Angela, I'm already tied…" Isabella sighed wistfully. _To Mr. Masen…_

* * *

**Hoshit! I have turned the Twi-universe upside down. Jasper is from Yorkshire, and Emmett from Ireland… yes, people, that's right! (Please don't throw rotten tomatoes at me for that. lol)**

**NOTE**- **here is what our Yorksy Jasper was thinking, in plain Queen's English:**

**_-I 'ate my power. Bloody emotions! And they know I 'ave to deal with my thirst as well. - I hate my power. Bloody emotions! And they know that I have to deal with my thirst as well._**

**_-I was just trying to 'elp. - I was just trying to help.  
_**

**And here's what our dear Irish Emmett meant-**

**_-Don't be so 'ard on Jasper. And, Edward, she is juicy. Oi approve – don't be so hard on Jasper. And, Edward, she is pretty. I approve._**

**Basically, just keep this in mind, Yorkshire accent deletes the letter 'H'. So, if someone says something that has 'H' in it, then he removes 'H' from it all together._ EXAMPLE: help= 'elp; hell= 'ell; have= 'ave ...and so on. Just remember one thing, 'H' is always replaced by an apostrophe. Then you can read the accent without any problem.  
_**

**_

* * *

_**

I'm making a rec here - Forget Her by fatallyobsessed (post NM fic. I liked this one especially for the way the author depicted Charlie's emotions, when Bella was falling apart right before his eyes.)


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, Meyer does, and that's the whole problem! All right, no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** **_Phew! Exams, a wedding in the family, unforeseen travels, all worked together to drain the energy out of me. I'm so sorry that I couldn't update sooner._** But real life pulled me back :-(

**Plus, writing a historical piece needs so much research! I had to edit my stuff again and again to keep it consistent with the Victorian times. But I'm so glad I finally came out of hiding and delivered this chapter. Of course, I'm thankful for the support my reviewers gave me through this month.**

As for Jasper's accent reading - **Basically, just keep this in mind, Yorkshire accent deletes the letter 'H'. So, if someone says something that has 'H' in it, then he removes 'H' from it all together._ EXAMPLE: help= 'elp; hell= 'ell; have= 'ave ...and so on. Just remember one thing, 'H' is always replaced by an apostrophe. Then you can read the accent without any problem._**

So I'm not gonna keep ya'll waiting, go ahead and dig in!

* * *

"Turn to your side, _Mademoiselle_," the seamstress instructed Isabella as she took her measurements, while her assistant noted them down.

With less than a fortnight to go until the wedding, the preparations were going on hurriedly. The Parisian seamstress and her assistants had reached Masen the manor in the morning, to work on Isabella's wardrobe. Alice was the one to call them; she had made the arrangement prior to coming to Forks Prairie.

She observed the group as they worked on Isabella, while Angela had a look at the dress materials, sitting at a distance. Her subconscious had prompted her to stay away from Alice, even though she found her very genial otherwise.

"This velvet is so soft, and the color will suit Issy," Angela gushed as she stroked the maroon fabric. "I must say, Alice, you have a knack of attaining just the right things. It appears as though you had already seen Issy, even before meeting her."

Alice giggled, happy that her psychic power was put to good use. "Thank you, Angela, I'm glad that you approve."

"Approve? I adore everything you bought!" Angela waved at the ensemble of fabrics, excited at the prospect of seeing Isabella dressed like a queen. "And the wedding gown is going to be one dazzling piece. Issy will look regal."

Isabella still hadn't seen the fabric chosen for the wedding dress. From what she could hear, it was to be luxurious and bedizened. She didn't feel the enthusiasm of Alice and Angela regarding the dress. Pondering about anything related to her wedding made her stomach twist uncomfortably. It filled her with contradictory feelings of repulsion and anticipation.

She sighed quietly, holding her arms up to give way to the seamstress. It made her feel like a puppet, being manoeuvred on the whims of a tailor, thorough with her measurements. Isabella surveyed the spacious room, her eyes flitting to the seamstress's assistants—shuffling about with their work; then toward Alice and Angela—chattering away. As she watched the hubbub around her, a strange feeling of isolation gripped her, accentuating her restlessness. She wanted peace, something to calm her nerves, but didn't know where to seek it.

Once the seamstress was done with her, she waved at Alice and Angela. "I'm still here, if you both care to notice."

Alice got up and sashayed in her direction, smiling broadly at her. "Oh, Bella, you look so relieved that the measurements are over." A bell-like laugh erupted from her, surprising Isabella with its lilting vibration.

She then pulled Isabella in a corner, and spoke softly into her ear, "Bella, can I ask you about something?" But as she tried to formulate her question, the seamstress interrupted her.

"I'm done with the measurements Madame Whitlock, now I need to know which fabric is to be made into what type of dress."

Alice almost growled at her, but seeing her proximity to Isabella, she reined her anger in quickly. Her vampiric arrogance surfaced on occasions where she wasn't given a free access, especially when humans interrupted her. The memory of her own humanity was lost to her; she only knew of being a vampire, and vampires preferred instant gratification.

But Alice had learned to practice humanity and patience under Carlisle's guidance, hence, she regained her composure and steered the seamstress toward the fabrics. She decided to prod Isabella later, when they would be choosing fabrics for her dresses.

Alice asked Isabella and Angela to join her in choosing the designs, while her mind still lingered on the question she wanted ask Isabella. It had bothered her ever since she first saw the vision of Isabella saying 'yes' to Edward's marriage proposal.

Meanwhile, Isabella stared at the plethora of fabrics in front of her. The variety of dress cloth boggled her mind, and she got confused easily. Choosing the fabrics from this assortment looked like a mountainous task to her.

"What ever you decide, I'm fine with that," Isabella told Alice courteously so that she wouldn't have to choose. "I'm not very good at deciding upon the designs and fabrics. I think you and Angela are better than me in this field."

"Bah! Humbug!" exclaimed Angela, "You're just trying to wriggle away, Issy."

Isabella couldn't help but smile, "No, Miss Scrooge, I was very sincere when I said that." She was glad that she had a friend like Angela, who was capable of lightening her mood under any circumstance.

"Oh yes, Angela, you're right, she's trying to shirk." Alice held Isabella's arm as she made her sit with them and select the fabrics.

"So, Bella?" she asked, as they weaved through the cloth collection, "You haven't told me how you met my brother. And more importantly, how did you two fall in love?"

Both Angela and Isabella went silent at her question. The silence grew as Alice waited for a response, but none came.

The seamstress noted the tense atmosphere as well, but continued with her work, as quietly as possible.

Then, Angela spoke lightly, to ease the growing discomfort inside the room, "Hasn't he told you himself?"

Alice shook her head in dismay, "No, he doesn't say much. I've tried to prod him, but he's unrelentingly stubborn. Hence, I asked Bella, but she seems tongue-tied as well."

Isabella's eyes darted here and there, as she tried to devise an answer to Alice's embarrassing question. "He…," she began, "saved my life." She hesitated in telling the rest of the story, owing to the presence of outsiders.

Alice nodded, and waited for her to continue. Angela, on the other hand, looked nervously at her, for she knew why Isabella was hesitating.

Isabella closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself, she didn't want to talk about this issue, but Alice's imploring eyes were softening her resolve to avoid it.

As if gauging her discomfort, Alice spoke up, "Bella, it's all right if want to tell me some other time. You don't have to divulge everything, I just wanted to know the gist. I suppose, my brother as the rescuer should be a good beginning."

"Yes, moreover, I think you should pester your brother as well, for the said _gist_," Angela quipped, "After all, even we don't know what is his side of the story."

Isabella shot Angela a warning look; she didn't want a discord with Alice, who had been very amiable with her.

"Or perhaps," Angela continued, disregarding Isabella's warning, "Issy _might_ tell you all about it. You _ought _to know…"

Alice's eyes narrowed at Angela's cryptic words, and she made a mental note to probe Edward. She could understand—from Angela's words—that something wasn't right in this union between Isabella and Edward. Even her visions appeared to be contradicting themselves.

"Pestering my brother—I'll surely do that, Angela. Edward has been evading me ever since we arrived," Alice said coolly, then turned her attention back to the cloth selection, for the seamstress was waiting.

That gave temporary relief to Isabella, who was having a hard time dealing with the uncomfortable issue of Edward's proposal.

* * *

By evening, the toil of deciding upon Isabella's trousseau was complete. Alice saw the seamstress and her assistants off to their chambers, situated close the mansion.

Upon returning, she came to face Jasper, who had just come back from a hunting trip with Edward. The presence of humans around the house posed a threat to his control, which is why Edward had persuaded him to go hunting.

Alice looked up at him and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Where's Edward?"

"Where else wood 'e be? With 'is 'uman, of course," he replied sarcastically. "Come with me for a walk in the woods. I've not been able spent time with you at all, you're too busy these days." (Where else would he be? With his human, of course. Come with me for a walk in the woods…)

Alice smirked at his suggestion, knowing full well what this 'walk' might entail.

He bent down and brushed his lips to hers. "Please, _Ally_," his words vibrated on her lips.

"All right." She pulled back and held his arm as they both flitted toward the woods.

Jasper stopped as they came upon a clearing in the dense forest. "You do like Isabella a lot," he stated amusedly.

"Aye, of course I do, don't you like her?" she asked him playfully as she ruffled his wavy golden hair.

"As food," he replied jocularly.

Alice tried to pretend annoyance, but Jasper's charm worked on her and rendered her defenceless.

"But we've not come to the woods to discuss Edward's 'uman doll, eh?" He pulled her into his lap as he sat down.

"I suppose not…" she sighed as he captured her lips again.

And then it struck, a vision of Isabella—being drained pale by a ravenous Edward as she struggled against him, and then went limp in his arms while he sucked the life out of her.

Alice gasped aloud, detaching herself from Jasper, who looked at her gloomily. He rubbed her shoulders and calmed her down with his power. "What did you see, Ally?"

"Bella," she whispered, numb with Jasper's calm, "Dead…"

* * *

Edward knocked on the door to Alice's chamber, where Isabella and Angela sat, waiting for Alice to return. He could feel the distinct heartbeat of Isabella as she approached the door. He had grown accustomed to her heart's vibration, and yearned to be near her pulse again.

"Alice," Isabella said without looking up as she opened the door, "what took you so lo…ng." Her voice lost its firmness as she finally noticed that it wasn't Alice at the door.

"Good evening," Edward greeted her, reaching for her hand.

"Same to you…" A small tremor passed through her as he brought her hand to his lips. Almost instantly, her restiveness disappeared. She wasn't feeling agitated anymore, and that surprised her.

"Come with me." He pulled her out of the room and held her waist as he greeted Angela, who had walked up to them. "I'm taking Bella with me for a while, would you mind?"

He unleashed his brilliant grin on Angela, who looked dazed under its effect.

"Not at all," she mumbled distractedly as she saw him whisk Isabella away.

Isabella noticed her friend's reaction to Edward's charm. "You really shouldn't do that to people," she said as he opened his bedroom door for her.

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them—Angela looked so dazed."

He blinked, his expression unchanged, but he looked confused nonetheless.

"You _have_ to know the effect you have on people," Isabella said warily, narrowing her eyes at him.

He tilted his head to one side, his eyes curious. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?" Now she felt uneasy to have raised the issue. She lowered her eyes and sat down on one of the carved rosewood chairs in his room.

Edward remained silent, still pondering on Isabella's accusation. Then, walking around the chair, he bent down from behind her and whispered in her ear, "Do I dazzle you?"

His cool lips grazed her ear as he lingered there.

"Frequently," she whispered back, while her heart flipped a beat.

Growing more adventurous, Edward pulled her lobe in his mouth and sucked on it.

Breathing heavily, Isabella closed her eyes in the effect of an unknown pleasure. Edward's tongue darted out and probed the sensitive skin of her ear. She whimpered, mumbling his name softly as she enjoyed his cold tongue on her lobe.

Sooner than he would have liked, Edward had to remove himself from Isabella's delicious skin. Her growing blush was threatening his control, and he knew his eyes were darkening as well.

"I wanted to give you something," he said as he glided around the chair to the large wall mirror facing his bed. "Come here." He waited for her to respond, while he checked his reflection, to see if his eyes had lightened back to their original color. They were recovering their golden tint.

Isabella stood up, slowly regaining her senses, and walked toward the newly acquired mirror. "This wasn't here before," she noted, eyeing the intricate floral designs on the lime wood and the lifelike cherubs that adorned the mirror's edges.

"You're observant." He smirked and positioned her in front of the mirror. "Stay here," he told her as moved away.

Isabella wondered what he was up to, but he didn't keep her waiting. In the mirror, she saw his hands snaking around her neck, something twinkling between them. As he spread his hands, it became clearer.

"A necklace?" she asked as he adjusted it around her neck and closed its loop.

"What else does it look like?" he teased her, "Of course, it's a necklace."

It was a stunning piece, bejewelled in oval ruby cabochons and silver filigrees with diamond teardrops.

"You have a special affection for rubies," her voice grew timid as he nuzzled her neck from behind.

Edward wanted to enjoy the warmth of her skin again, and he gave in to the pleasure as his lips touched her neck.

"Rubies are warm and inviting." He kissed her neck, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her back into him. "Which gemstone has _your_ affections?" he asked her, an effort to keep himself distracted from his parched throat.

Isabella sighed and lolled her head against his chest, giving him more access to her neck. "Sapphires," she gulped, "are nice…"

"Hmmm," He hummed into her neck, tracing her creamy skin with his lips to memorize its softness. Then, unable to control himself, he started sucking on her pulse point.

Isabella's eyes widened from the sensation his mouth evoked; she had felt these strange tingles before. She forced her foggy mind to function, but the memory was faint, and her efforts to recall were weak. Her hands came up to her waist, and gripped his cold hands to ease them off her. But Edward grasped them and laced his fingers with hers, keeping their entwined hands attached to her waist.

Her cautionary human instinct issued a warning to her, telling her to move away from him, but it went unheard.

"Bella…" Edward murmured into her neck, his voice wavering with the effort of keeping himself under control.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened and Alice came barging inside the room. Isabella gasped in surprise, while Edward disengaged himself from her in haste.

"Alice?!" he yelled at her for intruding in his private space.

"I'm really sorry, Edward, but I think I should take Bella home now." Alice tried to tame down her panicked expression, not wanting to expose anything to Isabella.

Edward stared at her, confused by her strange behaviour. He wasn't in the mood to let Isabella go, he wanted to spend more time with her. "You've been busy all day, Alice, take some rest. I'll escort her home, along with Angela."

"You've been busy yourself, Edward, even more so than me. I'll manage." Alice knew that Edward wouldn't give up easily, so without much ado, she showed him her latest vision.

He recoiled immediately, backing away from Isabella in a hurry. The vision jolted him like a lightning strike; it was the last thing he wanted to see, wherein he killed his would-be wife. The intensity of the vision accentuated his thirst for Isabella's blood, and he had to move back.

Edward's bizarre reaction puzzled Isabella, to whom he appeared to be having a seizure. She reached out to help him but he cowered away, holding his head in hands.

"Alice…?" Isabella mumbled anxiously, looking at her with questioning eyes.

Alice didn't answer her, she only looked at her apologetically. "Jasper!" she called out, grabbing Edward's shoulders to steady his shaking form, "Please come here and help Edward!"

By the time Jasper came, Angela had come out of the room, looking curious. She saw Edward struggling inside the room, while a bewildered Isabella met her eyes.

Alice nudged Isabella out of the room, to keep her at a safe distance from Edward. She came out behind her, asking her and Angela to return to her chamber.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she said, wanting to give a valid explanation as they entered her room, "Edward has a problem of severe headaches, which strike without warning."

"Oh… I see," Isabella stared ahead blankly, letting the information sink in.

Angela assessed her reaction, especially the worry lines on her forehead. _Well, I suppose, she does care for him… just not ready to admit it yet, _she thought.

"Please take him to a doctor?" Isabella clasped Alice's hands, her eyes full of concern. "There must be a cure? How often does it happen?"

"My father is a doctor, Bella, he'll take care of Edward. It doesn't happen often, I assure you. Don't worry, he'll be fine." Alice felt the guilt of deceiving Isabella, but she knew that there was no other way to explain her brother's strange behaviour. She had clearly underestimated his reaction to her vision.

"I forgot about Dr. Cullen." Isabella nodded, looking reassured. "So, what do you do when he suddenly suffers from this headache?"

"Well," Alice racked her brain for a plausible reply, "first of all, he doesn't have them _that_ regularly. Even then, you don't need to bother yourself about it, we'll be nearby only."

Isabella still didn't look satisfied with her answer.

"All right," Alice rolled her eyes, "just get him to rest, and don't try to feed him anything. Then call for us."

"Hmm, I'll keep that in mind." Isabella bit her lower lip in concentration, as she committed Alice's advice to her memory.

"Good, so let me take you home now." Alice motioned for them to move out of the room and follow her outside the manor.

Isabella halted near Edward's room, and turned to Alice, "Can I see him?"

"Bella, let him rest for the time being. You can see him tomorrow." Alice sighed, frustrated with her insistence.

Angela smirked at both of them, amused at Isabella's contradictory behaviour towards Edward.

Alice called for the carriage as they came outside. She felt relieved for once, that she had managed to keep Isabella away from the truth.

* * *

Alice and Isabella were alone inside the carriage, after having dropped Angela at her home. Both were silent, as they travelled on the path to the Swan residence. Alice was having a hard time staying quiet; she wanted Isabella to initiate the conversation, so that it wouldn't be a forced one. Isabella, conversely, waited for Alice to say something. Hence, the odd silence prevailed.

Finally, Alice couldn't take it anymore and succumbed to her urge to converse.

"Bella," she rested her hand on Isabella's shoulder as she spoke, "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry if my probing about you and Edward made you uncomfortable. I just wanted to know about it, out of general curiosity."

Isabella shrugged in response, feeling less embarrassed about it. She concluded that telling everything to Alice wouldn't change anything. _She should know, if she already doesn't,_ she thought.

"Its fine, Alice, I'll tell you."

Alice smiled at her reassuringly, to coax Isabella to speak further. She was excited to hear about her brother's love story. Even though she'd had the vision of Isabella agreeing to marry Edward, she couldn't see the whole story through her powers alone.

"Mr. Masen—well he asked my uncle for my hand—and in return, he promised to exonerate him of all his debts," Isabella exhaled heavily, as if a burden had lifted from her shoulders.

Alice's expression remained unchanged, though internally, a storm raged inside her. _And here I thought that this association stemmed from mutual love and attraction. Have my visions started failing me?_

"That's the gist," Isabella turned and looked away, "As for how we met… It was a stormy night, I was travelling back home and lost my way. Following a rough trail, I reached his house, where he took me in and saved me from the cold."

"Bella," Alice prompted her to turn back at her, "please tell me something…"

Isabella nodded and gave her approval.

"Is this a forced settlement? Are you marrying my brother only because you feel compelled to do so?"

Filled with discomfiture, Isabella lowered her eyes. She knew that admitting to Alice's insinuation would mortify her, but there was no denying that it was true.

"It's fine, Bella, your silence is enough for an answer. You needn't spell it out," Alice gritted her teeth in annoyance. "It's just that—I thought that both of you wanted this union in consequence to love."

"No Alice, I'm fine with this union," Isabella was quick to make amends; she didn't want Alice to confront Edward. "After all, I was meant to get married one day, so why not now, to your brother? And I'll be living close to my uncle, be able to see him every other day. Viewing it from that perspective, it's a very favourable match for me." She tried to sound joyful and convincing.

"But Bella, you don't love him!" Alice wanted to hide Isabella away from Edward, she felt the alarm of the situation Isabella was in. _She doesn't know what she's getting herself into. He's a vampire!_ Alice screamed inside her head.

"Most marriages are arranged like this only, Alice. I'm happy with everything …the way it is." Isabella attempted to restate her point by smiling at her. "Your brother has been kind to me. And see, I got such a lovely sister-in-law in you."

Alice shook her head in consternation. Isabella's tolerant nature only added to her anxiety. _How do I tell her that her future is an uncertain one? She'll either get killed or be changed by him. And that isn't fair, because she doesn't love him. I never expected Edward to be so cold-hearted._

Isabella seemed notice the change in Alice's demeanour. "Alice, please, just let it be. Don't discuss this with Mr. Masen, for my sake, and for his health's sake."

Even though Alice wanted to raise this issue with Edward, she nodded, and assured Isabella, "It won't be a problem, Bella. I just wanted to know, and now I do know. Don't worry, nothing will change."

Isabella sighed in relief as Alice returned her smile.

By that time, they had reached the Swan residence. Alice saw Isabella off and headed back home, determined to seek the answers from Edward.

Upon reaching her residence, she went straight for the woods situated in the back of the manor, where she knew she would find her brother. Edward had decided to go there to calm himself after seeing her vision, taking refuge in the green labyrinth.

He sat crouching over a fallen tree, clearly not welcoming the intrusion from Alice.

"Edward," she said coolly, to make him ease his stance. "I think you already know why I'm here."

Edward straightened up and stood tall over her, but his demeanour remained hostile. He could hear her thoughts, and they were livid.

"There are many things floating inside your rotten head, Alice, which one is the main cause of your concern?" he asked sardonically.

She stared back at him, her eyes searing. "You're going to kill her."

"Nonsense!" he roared, "I'm strong enough to control! Don't you dare show me that phony vision again."

"My visions aren't phony, Edward. You know that!"

Alice repeated the crystal clear vision inside her head, where Isabella was in Edward's clutches, pale and cold, and very surely dead.

"Alice!" Edward bellowed as he saw the vision, "I'm _not_ going to kill her! Don't use your tricks on me. I knew you would do this, that is why you came here!"

"You know that isn't true, Edward. We all want your happiness," Alice crossed her arms over her chest, "but not at the cost of someone else's precious life."

"You do know that I used to drink from humans a while back? You're being dramatic, because you want to deny me the thing I've wanted all my existence!" He walked past her and punched a hole into a nearby tree. "But I won't back away from now on. I won't let you take her away from me."

"You're going to ruin her! And…," Alice hesitated to say the words aloud, _she doesn't even love you._

"She responds to me, she even initiated the first intimate contact between us," he sneered at her.

"Really?" Her eyes bulged with disbelief. _I don't believe you, Edward._

"I cannot help you with that; but that's the truth," he stated smugly.

"Fine." She grated her teeth, still having a hard time believing him. "But there's another thing that's bothering me."

He eyed her dubiously, but waited for her to continue.

_Why did you react so dramatically upon seeing my vision?_

Edward averted his eyes and turned away from her, wedging his fingers into his unruly hair. "I don't understand, what do you mean by _dramatically_?"

His evasive response made her suspicious. "Why would you react to a human death like that, when you're so used to killing them?"

"Because I'm going to marry that particular human, Alice. What is so difficult to understand about that?" He didn't change his stance, keeping his back to her.

"Why would you care so much for a human? After all, what is so special about her?" she dragged on, resolute on getting the truth out of him.

"I like her company." He turned around to face her at last, his face impassive.

_Do you love her?_ She asked tentatively.

"You're embarrassing me with such unabashed questions, Alice, stop it." He fibbed annoyance.

_All right_, she persevered, ignoring his fake anger, _then_ _why do I see you killing her? It doesn't make sense. I should have seen her being changed, if anything. Why would you kill her, when you've stopped drinking from humans?_

"I have no idea, Alice, which is why it shocked me." Edward knew exactly why Alice had this vision—because of the uncontrollable thirst he felt around Isabella. He knew that Alice would raise hell if he ever told her the truth about his thirst for Isabella. Alice would try to stop him from marrying Isabella, and he didn't want that to happen. 

"Oh!" Alice gasped suddenly, "I think I know. She'll get hurt… there will be blood. And you won't be able to control yourself."

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, knowing that Alice was right. Isabella was human, and humans got hurt often. Such a situation—where Isabella cut herself—might overwhelm him, and evoke his vampire instinct to bite her.

"I'll have to be cautious, very cautious."

_But, would that be enough, Edward? How will you stop yourself? And besides that, why don't you just change her before anything bad happens?_ Alice tried to suggest a solution to the problem.

"I won't do that! I'll just stop breathing…"

Alice wiggled her head and gesticulated animatedly with her hands. _What?! You won't change her? Why…?_

"That's right. I won't. That's just how I want this to be. Now don't prod me any further. No more questions, Alice." Edward tilted his head in the direction from where Alice had come, suggesting her to leave.

"It's night already. I suppose you wouldn't come back until morning?" she asked, giving him a mental picture of Isabella's bedroom.

"I'm not going there tonight, now stop badgering me!" He glared at her, angry at her intrusiveness.

"Fine! But let me tell you, Edward, I'm still not trusting those stunted answers you gave me." Flashing him a swirl of her fingers, Alice dashed back to the mansion.

Edward stayed in the forest all night, thinking up a valid explanation for his obsession with Isabella, for he knew Alice wouldn't give up trying.

* * *

"Issy?"

Silence…

"Isabella?"

More silence…

"Bella?"

Instantly, her head turned towards Angela. "Hmm?"

Angela gave her a quizzical look. "I'm don't know what to say for your partiality towards '_Bella_,' but, well… where were you?"

Isabella raised her eyebrows, and then crunched them together. She knew what Angela meant by that question, but didn't know how to answer it.

"I'm not sure," she answered after a long gap.

"I know that it's difficult for you, but the more you think about it, the more you get lost inside the puzzle." Angela gave her a tight hug. "Why don't you just distract yourself with something?"

"And what do I distract myself with?" Isabella asked in frustration.

"Read something? I don't know, Issy, do something that can take your mind off the wedding …and Mr Masen."

"I've read everything I have, my collection doesn't hold my attention anymore," Isabella said dryly, her eyes still far away, lost in her confused state regarding Edward.

"You've read my collection as well, you're a bookworm." Angela grumbled.

Then, an idea struck Isabella. "The attic!"

"What's inside the attic?" Angela gave her another questioning look.

Isabella's expression brightened as she explained, "I'll clean the attic. There's a lot of clutter in there, and I've been avoiding it ever since I came here." She clasped her hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. "That room is like a dumping place, and I know that my uncle isn't going to clean it up on his own."

"Well, good luck with that." Angela smiled tentatively; she couldn't understand why a cleaning task would make her friend happy. "I have to leave now any way. My mother wanted me to be back early. Will you be fine?"

Isabella nodded at her, "Just go home and stop worrying for me. I'll be fine."

Angela shared a parting hug with Isabella, and then hurried back home.

Without wasting any time, Isabella got to the task of cleaning the attic. As she had thought, the attic was full of stuff that needed to be thrown away. But there were a few things that surprised her, for she never expected them to be in the attic, gathering dust. The most intriguing one was a strange typewriter, not as bulky as the one she had seen in her father's study. She kept it aside and decided to inquire Charles about it.

By evening, she had cleared almost all the clutter inside the room, except for a small wooden cabinet.

"Let's see what is inside this," she mumbled to herself as she tried to open the drawers of the cabinet. At first, they didn't give, having stayed closed for a long time. She pulled again, with more power, and this time, one drawer opened.

Inside it, she found a small stack of yellowed papers. They were filled with strange text, which contained only capital letters. She skimmed through the entire lot, and not even once did the wall of capital letters break. Random blotches over the script, and the coarseness of the letters suggested that these pages were typewritten. She also noted that they were numbered, but not arranged accordingly.

She rearranged the stack according to the page numbers, and found that this strange script had a title, a very ordinary one at that.

"_Pomegranate Seeds_," She read the heading aloud, as though it would make sense to her that way. _A recipe cannot be that long. So, could it be an ode to everything containing pomegranate seeds?_ she mused.

To see if her presumption was right, she read the first paragraph of the script. It confused her further, as it contained nothing relating to a pomegranate. Reading another paragraph, she was sure that this script wasn't a tribute to the seedy fruit. She decided to take the pages with her, and read the whole script, for it intrigued her.

Opening the rest of the drawers, she found several things. There were a few books on Greek and Roman mythology—most of which weren't in English—and some hand written notes.

She cleaned the cabinet and settled everything in order inside the room. Picking up the script of _Pomegranate Seeds_ along with the books and notes, she headed for her room.

After taking bath, she dressed and combed her hair, all the while thinking about the pile of typewritten pages she had found in the attic. _Who typed it? I'm almost sure that it was typed from that typewriter I found there._

Unable to contain her curiosity, she retrieved the script from her table to give it a read, and sat in her rocking chair. Even though the capital letters made it difficult to read, she persevered and continued to plough through it.

A few pages into the script, she realized that it was a story, based on a Greek myth. It told the tale of Persephone, the daughter of goddess Demeter, and Hades, the god of the Underworld. Isabella hadn't read much about them, since they were rarely depicted in art. From what she knew, Hades was always portrayed as an evil god who abducted Persephone and forced her to marry him. Even the script of _Pomegranate Seeds_ depicted him as a dark and sinister figure. He always kept his distance from other gods of the pantheon, who feared him. Persephone, on the other hand, was shown as the beautiful young woman, full of warmth and innocence.

"_Hades was enamoured by her pulchritude, but didn't have the patience to court her, so he decided to abduct her instead_," she read to herself, letting the sentence sink in. "As if abducting her would help the matters. Couldn't he just ask her politely?"

She put the text aside and got up. It was time to make dinner, so she headed for the kitchen.

Charles arrived an hour later, just in time for dinner. "Hey Issy, how was your day?" he smiled at her, but his eyes remained sad.

"Nice," Isabella replied, showing false enthusiasm to cheer him up. "I cleaned the attic."

"The attic? Why?" His expression changed, surprise replacing the glum.

"Because I knew that you wouldn't do it on your own. It has been like that—dirty, ever since I came here, Uncle."

"It has been like that ever your Aunt Clara passed away…," he said in a small voice, looking out the window dejectedly.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Uncle, I didn't know—I mean, you didn't want it cleaned?" she wittered frantically, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. _What have I done? Is there any way I can make amends? Oh God!_

"Issy, no dear, it's all right," he assured her, holding her hands to stop her anxious mumbling, "I'm happy that you did it. And you're probably right, I wouldn't have made the effort to clean it up. You did me a favour, my child." He tried to sound amused, but his eyes still looked aggrieved.

She stared wide-eyed at him. "You're not mad? I didn't want to renew the pain, Uncle, I'm sorry."

"Why would I be mad, Issy? Don't be ridiculous. And you did the right thing, I would have never attempted to clean it, owing to the memories. I feel relieved that you did it."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "So can I ask you something?"

He nodded in approval.

"I found a typewriter and a small cabinet filled with papers and books—are they yours?"

"No, they're Clara's," he replied with a thoughtful look, "And it's a Caligraph you found there, not a usual typewriter. I don't know what those papers are all about. She was an avid reader, and I think she was writing something as well. But after her death, I never ventured into that room. It was her study, where she used to spend her free time."

Isabella expected him to show grief, but the thoughtful expression remained.

"She was a woman of many talents, Issy. She studied history in detail, and was intrigued by ancient European history. I never delved into her literary world, for it was beyond me." He shook his head and smiled weakly, remembering the days when his wife was in perfect health.

"I didn't mean to disturb anything, but I found her script, I think," she murmured, drawing his attention back to her, "Can I read it?"

"I think your aunt would have surely wanted you to read her scripts. Go ahead." He patted on her head affectionately, his eyes warm.

After having his dinner, Charles disappeared into his room, citing tiredness. Isabella cleaned up the table, and then retreated back into her room.

She took the script with her to the bed, more interested than ever. It was a memento of her late aunt, and she wanted to know more about it.

Reading further, she reached the point the where Hades took Persephone to the Underworld and offered her to marry him.

"_Marry me, become the Queen of the Underworld, and I promise you that I'll let you go back to your mother_." Isabella felt uneasy upon reading that line, but she didn't want to acknowledge the reason behind it. A small voice repeated the words of another, very familiar man to her, which weren't in a very different light than Hades's.

_I'm ready to relinquish all of the money that you have borrowed from me… on one condition. That you agree to give your niece's hand in marriage… to me._

Disturbed by the memory, she put the script back on her table and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. The efforts employed in cleaning the attic had left her tired, thus, her body gave in easily. She dozed off quickly, her mind spiralling into deep slumber, stepping in the realm of Hades.

**_

* * *

_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters. Everything Twilight belongs to Ms. Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** _**I know that all of you want to see the scorching romps in Edward's bedroom, but please have patience. Some issues needed to be resolved first. I'm getting there, so please bear with me.**_

_**Another thing, I'm extremely sorry for the delay in updates. I injured my back a few days ago. I was going to post this chapter sooner, but my poor health halted the progress. Sorry for that. Please stay with me, my lovely readers... I promise to keep going on. I just need a bit of time to recover.**_

**NOTE:** Jasper's accent reading - **Basically, just keep this in mind, Yorkshire accent deletes the letter 'H'. So, if someone says something that has 'H' in it, then he removes 'H' from it all together.**

**_EXAMPLE: human= 'uman; help= 'elp; hell= 'ell; have= 'ave ...and so on. _**

**_Just remember one thing, 'H' is always replaced by an apostrophe. Then you can read the accent without any problem. I have removed all the other funny accented words, so it shouldn't be a problem now._**

* * *

**_Thump thump thump…_**

A smile crept across his face as he heard his favourite vibration from outside the manor—Isabella's heartbeat. An urge to bound down the stairs gripped him, and he flashed toward the door. Opening it in a hurry, he almost ran straight into Alice, who was standing at his door like a guard dog.

"My mental warnings don't seem to be working on you anymore." She gave him a dubious look. "You don't listen to me any longer, Edward. I'm beginning to fear that you're losing your mind reading abilities."

Edward tugged at his messy bronze hair and looked beyond her shoulder pensively. "She's here, give way."

"Wouldn't I know that, dear brother?" Alice smirked at him and pushed him back. "Now go back and get inside your bed. You're _unwell_, remember?"

"Alice!" he growled at her domineering attitude, "you told her that it was just a headache. I'm not running a fever, for god's sake!"

"You certainly aren't," she imitated Carlisle's tenor—the way he'd speak to a patient, "but you feel lightheaded and nauseous." She kept nudging him back until he was standing right next to the bed.

Edward glowered at her, but she remained unfazed. "You want her to _see_ that you're only _human_, don't you?"

Alice's jibe hit home; Edward's lips pulled back over his teeth, and a low growl rumbled from his chest.

"You can either be the ideal husband for her, or be what you are, Edward." Alice tapped her foot on the floor impatiently, waiting for good sense to prevail over him.

In the meantime, downstairs, Jasper and Emmett straightened up as soon as they heard Isabella's approach.

The click of Isabella's shoes echoed inside the grand hall of the manor. She cringed at the noise, feeling extremely self-conscious.

Jasper and Emmett sat in the far corner of the hall, playing chess. To Isabella, they seemed engrossed in the game, but they were actually focused on her.

Very gingerly, she approached them, afraid that she might disturb their game. They both looked up as she came closer, and greeted her with a smile.

Emmett was first to break the ice. "Good mornin'," he said, courting his usual amused expression.

Isabella returned the gesture and smiled shyly.

Jasper took on from Emmett. "'Ow are you doing?" _(How are you doing?)_

Isabella blinked in confusion, not understanding much of his cadence. "Pardon?"

As Jasper grappled for a clear way to speak, Esme entered the hall from one of the back doors. She sauntered toward Isabella, rubbing her grubby hands on her apron.

"Bella! So good to see you here." She raised her hands and gave her an apologetic look. "I was working in the garden."

"Same here, Mrs. Cullen. You like gardening?" Isabella had a distant look in her eyes as she said that.

"Yes, I love to shovel around." Esme tilted her head and appraised Isabella's appearance. Ever since she had seen her, she couldn't stop marvelling at her favourite son's choice.

"That's… nice to know." Isabella couldn't help but stare at Esme's now soiled apron. "My mother loved her garden as well." The smiling face of Renée Swan popped inside her head. It was easy to see her own mother in Esme, and that comforted Isabella.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bella, I didn't mean to remind you—I mean, I know that…" Esme tried to continue, to say something to comfort her, but Isabella raised her hand to stop her.

"That's fine, Mrs. Cullen, I have come to accept my loss." A rather forced smile adorned Isabella's face as she said those words.

Isabella's brave effort tugged at Esme's dead heart, and her motherly instinct surfaced. "I know my child, you're a brave one." She wanted to hug Isabella, but her dirty hands posed a hindrance.

Behind her, Jasper cleared his throat audibly, a covert way to let Esme know about his increasing thirst. Presence of a human in such close proximity was threatening his control.

"So, Bella, shall I get you something? Do you want to, perhaps, sit with Alice in her room?" Esme turned to glare at Jasper, to make him leave.

Emmett couldn't suppress the laugh that built in his chest, seeing Jasper glare back like a petulant child. They were in the middle of an exciting game, and Jasper didn't want to leave.

"Actually," Isabella tried to talk over Emmett's cachinnation, "I came here to see Mr. Masen."

That stopped Emmett's mirth, as he trained his full attention on Isabella, who was beginning to redden.

"How is he doing?" she asked sheepishly, her eyes flitting around the hall surreptitiously. Her blush deepened as her shy eyes met Emmett's twinkling ones.

Jasper groaned—unable to control his thirst anymore—and dashed outside. Isabella gaped at him, taken aback by his sudden exit.

"He got boke as well," Emmett remarked in utter amusement, citing Jasper's thirst as sickness. "Pure sensitive… loves his brother immensely."

"Emmett," Esme chastised him with a stern look, and turned at Isabella. "Don't mind him. Jasper is well and good, just had to run an errand. He had forgotten about it, and had to hurry."

Esme's over-enthusiastic explanation about Jasper's odd behaviour didn't go unnoticed. Isabella eyed her skeptically. "That's all right. So," she changed the topic, "Alice had said that these headaches don't last long, I was wondering if Mr. Masen is still unwell. She had stopped me from coming here yesterday..."

"Your man is grand," Emmett replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He then cocked his head in the direction of Edward's room upstairs. "Waiting for ye."

Emmett's bluntness made her uncomfortable and she moved towards the stairs.

Esme glowered at Emmett, exasperated at his abrasive sense of humour. She turned to Isabella, to say something comforting, but Isabella was already half way up the stairs.

Isabella mouthed a quick 'thank you,' rushing away. Emmett's intimidating presence and teasing repartee was enough to make her bolt.

Upstairs, both Edward and Alice could hear Isabella's clumsy ascent. Their verbal skirmish stopped abruptly.

"Quick! In your bed, now!" Alice whispered at vampire frequency.

"I abhor you, Alice!" Edward hissed as he jumped into his bed and slipped beneath the quilts.

"All of this is happening because you wanted to kill her, remember?"

"I _did not_ want to kill her!"

"Good, I'd like to believe it," Alice retorted, while Isabella approached Edward's room. "But, unlike you, my power is well and working, and it begs to differ."

A soft knock permeated the room as Isabella lightly tapped her knuckles on the door.

Alice bounced to the door and opened it almost right away. "You didn't listen," she chided, her amusement bubbling over.

Isabella smiled meekly, her cheeks already pink with heat. "I stayed away yesterday, as you said, but I just wanted to make sure that he's recovering well," she tried to defend herself.

A smile replaced the scowl on Edward's face as he heard Isabella's plea. _Well, feigning illness isn't so bad after all._

"Is he still sleeping?" Isabella enquired. "If he is, then I'll go away. I won't disturb him."

"No." The word slipped out of Edward's mouth even before he could consider it.

Alice let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, he's fine now, just resting for recovery. And, yes, as you can see, he's wide awake." She moved aside to let Isabella in.

Edward's eager eyes watched Isabella intently as she approached his side. She settled down quietly in the rosewood chair next to the bed, not meeting his gaze.

"I'll be downstairs, playing chess with Emmett," Alice announced as she left, closing the door behind her. _I'll be watching, Edward_, she told him sternly.

"What did you do yesterday?" Edward pushed the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed to keep his face levelled with hers.

"You should rest. Lie down please." She nodded toward the quilts.

"I want to talk to you," he replied in a soft, pleading voice.

"You can talk while lying down."

"But I want to see your glorious face and touch your hands…"

His brazen reply caught her off guard. She squirmed in her chair, feeling that strange yet familiar weightlessness in her lower half.

Edward smiled at her reaction, glad that her body responding to his words. "You still didn't tell what you did yesterday."

Isabella's eyes were fixed on the floor as she answered, "I cleaned up the attic. It was enough to keep me busy for the day."

"You say that as if you wanted to do something else." Edward wanted her to look up, so he lowered his head slightly and peeked at her from her under his lashes.

_Don't make it difficult for her, Edward!_ Alice scolded from downstairs. _As it is, she is shy about being here. She isn't very forthcoming, so let her be._

"Stay out of my private life, Alice. I can handle it on my own," he replied in a voice too low for Isabella to hear.

"Bella?" He stretched his hand to touch her warm cheek. "Did you want to come here instead? If you had mentioned it to me, I would have sent someone to clean the attic for you."

"Oh, no, I didn't feel obligated to clean it; I did it on my own volition." She chewed her lip nervously and continued, "I wanted to come here to see if you were fine."

Edward chuckled lightly. "Now that you're here, I feel perfectly fine. More than fine, actually." He knew it would mollify her; he wanted to trap her in his charms. That way, it would be easier to get her to open up to him eventually, or so he assumed. For Edward, everything was an assumption with Isabella, since her mind never opened itself to him.

"I liked that necklace you gave me." Isabella tried her best to deflect the conversation towards something else.

He stared at her intently, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Isabella looked up at once and met his gaze. She held his eyes for a brief moment, her own eyes holding a mix of emotions she didn't understand. Drawing an unsteady breath, she closed her eyes for a moment and then spoke again, "I still don't understand your obsession with rubies though."

"I'll give you sapphires next time."

She blushed a beetroot red, remembering the time when she had admitted to liking sapphires. The memory of Edward's lips on her skin made her shiver… with pleasure.

A brilliant smile stretched across Edward's handsome features; it was the smile of triumph. Isabella was slowly falling under his spell. He could almost see the future now—Isabella's warm, enchanting body joined with his, his name on her luscious lips.

He stroked her cheek softly, feeling the heat of her blush. "Your blush is beautiful, Bella."

Her eyes lost focus as he drew closer, a normal reaction to Edward's proximity.

"You still can't take compliments easily. How adorable," he sighed, tracing her lips with his thumb. "Come here, please."

His other hand closed around hers and pulled her to him. Her brows creased in confusion, but she let him draw her out of the chair and on to his lap.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, searching her eyes.

"No…" She gulped loudly, not afraid of him, rather in fear of losing her resistance to him. Each day, she felt it slipping from her control, like sand through her fingers.

He moulded his hand around the curve of her cheek and pulled her closer. Their lips locked together in perfect harmony.

A burst of heat shot through Isabella, urging her to get closer to Edward. Something very dormant, very primal, was awakening inside her, and she was drowning under her overflowing senses. Her lips parted without any resistance, and his cold tongue dived in eagerly, seeking her warm one. Her hands—which were lying limp around his shoulders till now—moved toward his neck on their own.

A muffled groan escaped Edward's lips as he felt her warm hands gripping his neck. They sent shocks right down his spine—shocks of pure pleasure. Her hands then moved up, into his hair. His grip tightened around her soft frame, while her dainty hands tugged at his hair. It wasn't painful to him, but immensely arousing.

Edward withdrew slowly, feeling aroused and extremely thirsty at the same time. But he was able to beat his thirst down; the man prevailed over the vampire. Dragging his lips across Isabella's skin, he traced her jaw line and came to halt at her throat.

Isabella let him have his way, while she panted away lightly, her eyes staring ahead at nothing. Her hands were still gripping his hair, pulling him closer to her still. He kissed her throat lightly, fully in control of his thirst. It gave him assurance for the future.

_Whaat are they doin' up there?!_ Emmett's loud thoughts permeated Edward's mind, killing his bliss. _You're not doin' what Oi fear you're doin', Edward?_

Sooner than he would have liked, Edward moved away from Isabella's warm skin. Holding her waist, he stood up, raising her to her feet with him.

Isabella blinked, returning to herself finally. Edward's ardent kisses always left her dazed.

"Let's go downstairs," he said reluctantly. "Would you like to see Esme's gardening skills?"

"Uhh, yes, of course." She could see the resigned look on his face. It confused her, for it made no sense to her. But she went along with him, to humour him.

"So, Alice stopped you from coming to see me?" he asked casually as they descended down the stairs.

"She feared that it would disturb you and hamper your recovery," she tried to defend Alice.

Edward grumbled under his breath. "They all overdo it. There was no need for that kind of restriction. I only felt the headache and its effects for an hour or so."

"I believe they were just being cautious. They care for you," she said softly, so softly that his anger crumbled.

"Yes, they do care. But I don't like feeling weak." His admission wasn't insincere.

They remained silent then, until they were out in the open gardens.

"How painful is it?" she asked in a concerned tone. "I mean, how much worse can it get? And what do you eat at that time… chicken soup?"

Edward shook his head in amusement and smirked at her. "I think, _your_ touch is all I need."

She looked at him with faux annoyance, which pleased him even more.

"All right, I just need _rest_ to recover, nothing else. It's not very complicated," he replied seriously, careful not to give away too much.

Isabella went quiet after hearing his answer, noting that he hadn't mentioned any particular type of food. She found it odd, because recovery needed strength, and food was the main source to gain that strength.

Edward saw the deep concentration on her face and wondered if she was speculating about his lack of human tendencies. He knew Alice was right, that he needed to pretend to be more human, lest Isabella began suspecting…

* * *

"So, Bella," Alice chirped, "are you ready to see your wedding gown?"

Isabella smiled nervously at her, not sure how to answer her enthusiasm. "Of course, Alice, enough with the trepidation."

"Here it is!" Alice clapped her hands twice, a hint for the seamstress to bring the dress.

As ordered by Alice, the seamstress appeared in the doorway, carrying the wedding ensemble with her. Her assistants, who held the rest of the trousseau, followed behind her closely. It looked like a procession.

"It's ivory silk faille, and the cathedral train is separate. The veil is silk tulle, with lace at the end." Alice explained the details of the gown, while the seamstress laid it in front of Isabella. "The sleeves are lined with Brussels lace. Do you like the bell shape of the sleeves? I thought they'd suit you."

Isabella appraised the gown as Alice chattered away the details, some of which didn't register with her. Even though she hadn't seen that many wedding dresses, she was certain that this was perhaps the most elegant one she'd ever seen.

"The bodice fastens by the lacing, which is drawn through eyelets. The train is to be trimmed on the inside of the outer edge with a balayeuse. You can see the design with glass beads and rhinestones. And did you see the stand-up collar, and the neckline—" Alice suddenly stopped her commentary on the gown and eyed Isabella. "Bella?"

Hearing her name, Isabella trained her wide eyes on Alice. "Alice…" She swallowed loudly, stunned by the beauty of her wedding dress. "This is beyond words."

Alice smiled triumphantly, for once feeling satisfied with her efforts. "So, you do like the dress, hmm?"

"Yes." There wasn't another word for Isabella to convey her true emotions. All things said and done, it was the perfect wedding dress, a dress she always dreamt of.

"Then please go and wear it. I want to see you in it, Bella. I can't contain my excitement!" Alice ushered her toward the closet, handing her the dress.

Isabella was unable to put it on on her own. Alice came in to help her without needing to be asked. "I knew you would fumble around, so I came to the rescue," she said as she tightened her bodice.

"And hold on, we're not done yet," Alice halted Isabella as she was about to exit the closet. "Let me try the ankle boots as well. Then we'll have the complete ensemble."

She retrieved a pair of white suede leather boots from behind her. They matched with the wedding gown. "Here, Bella, show me your feet."

Isabella lifted her skirt and allowed Alice to fit the boots.

"Ah! Perfect!" Another round of excited clapping erupted from Alice.

In the next half hour, the seamstress checked the dress for any glitches with fitting. It turned out fine, needing only minor adjustments. The rest of the trousseau followed suit.

Isabella felt exhausted at the end of the fitting session. "Alice, is it over now?" she asked for assurance's sake, once they were done with the last dress.

"Why, you want more dresses?" Alice teased her.

"No, no." Isabella raised her hand in haste. "I mean… I'm getting tired now. I don't know from where you all get the strength to go on."

"Ha, ha." Alice let out her silver bell laughter. "No, I'm not going to bother you anymore. There are, of course, other clothes as well, but their fitting will be fine."

"Other clothes?" Isabella looked at her dubiously.

"Oh, yes, don't you worry, Bella." Alice waved the seamstress away, while keeping her attention still on Isabella. "Night gowns, drawers, chemises, everything will be taken care of."

"You don't need to arrange for _everything_," Isabella protested. "I already have those."

Alice packed the bridal boots in a white box, almost ignoring Isabella's protest. "The bride has to have everything newly made."

"But I have some new ones," Isabella said petulantly. "Alice, please."

"No more discussion on this, Bella." Alice's tone turned stern. "If there is any side that is lopsided in this wedding, it's yours. You're giving more than I can ever pay back; always remember that."

Isabella couldn't understand the meaning behind Alice's convoluted sentence. But she could see that Alice was trying to avoid this discussion. "Thank you, Alice," she said softly. "I would have been unable to manage everything so quickly."

"Oh, Bella, I'm _not_ doing you a favour." Alice's joyful expression faltered a little, as the confusion over Isabella's future gnawed at her. "I'm doing my duty. Don't thank me, silly."

Isabella nodded, but her gratitude toward Alice didn't diminish. "So, won't you show me your dress?"

"Yes, I will. But let Angela arrive first, then we both can show you our dresses. Bridesmaids go together!"

Even though Alice looked visibly happy, Isabella couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of dread as she observed her would be sister-in-law. She tried her best to overlook her odd overexcitement for the wedding, for now…

* * *

With two days left for the wedding, everyone in the Masen mansion was busy helping Alice get the decorations right. She was flitting around the grand hall like a whirlwind, keeping an eye on every minute detail.

She was also the one who suggested that the gentlemen of the house go on a hunting trip together. She knew that Carlisle wanted to talk to the elusive Edward, and she was giving him a window of opportunity. As she had expected, Edward resisted. But she got Esme to convince him, and that worked.

There was another reason behind this forced hunting trip. Alice had seen a vision, and it wasn't a pretty scene. Rosalie was about to raise hell. She had seen all the preparations for the wedding with mute displeasure. But now, as time was running out, she was getting restless. She was worried for her family, for their secret, and wanted assurance. Edward was certainly not giving her any assurance, and thus, she wanted to confront him. Alice knew that this would turn into an ugly exchange of words, so she tried to get Edward away.

_Carlisle, Emmett, and Jasper are any day better than Rosalie_, she thought, once she was sure that Edward couldn't hear her.

Deep in the forest, Edward hunted with his brothers and creator, Carlisle. He knew that Alice was trying to hide something, that this hunting excursion was made in haste. It wasn't a necessary trip, as he didn't feel thirsty. But Carlisle had insisted, and Esme's plea had finally made him cave in.

By the end of the hunt, Edward knew that this trip wasn't so much about hunting, as it was about having a father-son conversation. He was perfectly fine with that, but it irked him that Jasper and Emmett also tagged along.

As they all gathered around a clearing after the hunt, Carlisle turned to Edward. "Edward, before we return, I want to have a discussion with you. It is important, so would you please listen to me for once?"

Edward nodded stiffly—knowing that this discussion was unavoidable—and sat down on a boulder. Jasper and Emmett followed wordlessly.

"Send them home." He pointed in the direction of his brothers.

"We are part of this discussion." Jasper crossed his arms over his chest. "We also 'ave a few queries." _(we also have a few queries.)_

Edward wasn't pleased with his intrusion, but he decided to endure. He wanted to get past these discussions before the wedding.

_It is about Isabella_, Carlisle continued in his thoughts, _how and when are you going to change her? I can see that it will be after your wedding, but what I really wanted to know was—do you have enough self control to change her? And how are you going to explain everything to her afterwards?_

Edward groaned in frustration at the repeated question. "Didn't you talk to Alice? She has already asked me all these annoying questions."

_I would rather you personally told me…_

"Fine!" Edward growled. Jasper and Emmett exchanged anxious looks, but Carlisle remained calm.

"I am _not_ planning to change her! Have I made myself clear now?" Edward closed his eyes to calm himself down. The intrusive behaviour of his family was beginning to annoy him.

A wave of unnatural calm enveloped him suddenly. He opened his eyes and glared at Jasper. "Don't. Do. That."

Jasper shrugged and looked at Carlisle.

Beside him, Emmett twitched with contradictory emotions of shock and calm. "Ye won't change Bella?" he asked, Jasper's manipulation stifling the incredulous tone of his voice. "But…"

"You might want to explain that, Son." Carlisle remained unfazed by Edward's terse reply.

"I just want to keep her that way. Why are you all so baffled by this?" Edward grabbed a rock from the ground and crushed it between his hands, turning it to dust.

Emmett cocked his brow, as Edward's response raised a few doubts in his mind. "Keep her that way? She's not gonna stay frozen in 'er present age, brother. She'll get _old_."

"Why do you want to keep her human, Edward?" Carlisle was insistent. _For her sake, or for your sake? _

"This is worse than Alice." Edward dropped his head into his hands, thoroughly frustrated. "For _my_ sake. I want her as a human. I want to have that kind of experience with a _human_."

It was Jasper's turn to question him now. _'Ow are you goin' to be with a 'uman, in that way, Edward. It's unnatural for our kind. I can't even fathom such a thing. __(How are you going to be with a human…)_

Edward raised his head from his hands, his eyes glowing with anger. "You know, Carlisle, I think I have said enough. I don't need each and every one of you inside my head, asking the same questions. Why can't you just be happy about the fact that I don't plan to _kill_ her?"

"I wasn't questioning you on the moralistic side of things, Edward. Just the plain curiosity of your choice." Carlisle tried to pacify him. "Of course, we are happy that you finally found someone, but it is all very… bizarre."

"Bizarre is the apt word," Jasper agreed. "Besides, what if she gets suspicious?" He raised the topic that bothered him the most. "You don't seem inclined to tell Isabella our secret, and that's fine. But if she starts wonderin', then what are you plannin' to tell 'er?" _(…what are you planning to tell her?)_

"When ye won't eat, or sleep, or bleed… what'll she think about that? And your cold body?" Emmett's face was serious for once.

"They are right, Edward. We might get away with our pretence of humanity, but you will be under her constant scrutiny." Carlisle's tone was sympathetic, unlike Jasper and Emmett's ridicule.

"That's my concern; you all stay out of that!" Edward's only defence right now was offence. He himself didn't know the exact answer to their queries, and he didn't want this to get in his way. He wanted Isabella, and it was slowly becoming a desperate need.

"Fine," Emmett interrupted. "One last query."

Edward gave him a curt nod.

"Where did ye get this notion from? Of keepin' a human, that is. Since ye were more willin' to kill them."

"I _like_ Isabella, and that's reason enough." Edward wasn't liking this fresh turn of the conversation.

_Tanya?_ Emmett couldn't help but mention her name. He grinned at Edward, wiggling his eyebrows.

In a flash, he was thrown towards a huge boulder. The rock shook with the impact and crumbled to pieces.

Loud snarls erupted from Edward's chest, in the general direction of Emmett, who wasn't deterred.

"I was dead serious," he snorted. _She's well known for her love of human men… _

Carlisle put a restraining hand on Edward's shoulder. "Try and control your reactions, Son. Isabella won't be able to cope, if you try _this_ with her." He indicated toward Emmett and the crushed boulder.

It was a fair warning. Vampire strength could kill a human in a heartbeat.

"I won't lose control. I know the difference." Edward's searing gaze was still fixed on Emmett, who wasn't bothered about it in the least.

"Are you done now, Carlisle?" There was an edge of scorn in Edward's tone. "Or am I going to have to endure a speech on morals as well?"

"No, Son, that was all I wanted to know," Carlisle replied grimly. "I am not going to smother you with my way of life or morals. I just wish the best for you."

"Then try not to raise this issue again," Edward said with an air of finality.

Jasper looked anxiously at Carlisle, still not convinced with Edward's reasoning for taking a human as a mate. But Carlisle shook his head and indicated an end to the discussion.

With that, they headed back to the Masen manor, unaware of the trouble brewing there. However, as the distance lessened, Edward could hear the voices from inside his house in the form of thoughts.

"We should have never come here. You told us that he had found his mate. But a _human_?" Rosalie's spiteful voice grated on his ears, and he cringed slightly.

"Rose, everything will settle down. You need to support him. We all need to. He has been alone for such a long time. Don't ruin this." This time, it was Alice's high-pitched voice that permeated his mental ears.

"And I know that it's selfish," Esme said, agreeing with Alice, "but what choice do we have? Edward is _happy_. He has been lonely and sad for too long. And Bella is good for him. I'm sure she'll make a fabulous wife."

"Oh really?" Rosalie's harsh tone hadn't changed. "But I simply don't understand this Isabella's charm. What is she? Just a plain human girl. And he's ready to risk our lives for her. Where's the sense in that? If he really cared for us, he'd avoid relations with humans. But it's evident that he doesn't!"

By this time, Edward had picked up his pace and was flashing like a ghost through the forest. The way Rosalie was talking about Isabella didn't go down well with him.

"By keeping her human, he's threatening our control as well. And what if someday she caught onto our secret? She'll tell everyone in this filthy village!" Rosalie's voice became shrill with rage. "What exactly is he going to _do_ with her?"

"Rose, I think it's not the best time to discuss all this." Alice tried to warn Rosalie about Edward's approach. The vision was clear inside her head—a verbal skirmish between Rosalie and Edward as soon as he got back.

Edward could very well see her visions.

"It's _the_ time to discuss it, Alice. Or else he'll just go about his ways and do as he wishes."

"Rosalie is right." Edward stepped inside the house, his face a mask of calmness. "I'll do as I please. After all, this is _my_ life—or existence. I want Bella, and I'll _get_ Bella." He stepped closer to Rosalie and glared into her face. "And there's nothing that you or anyone else can do to stop me."

Rosalie remained unperturbed by the warning in his voice. "Just tell me one thing, Edward. What is so special about _her_? You want to cast all of us aside, just for her?"

"No one invited you to my wedding, Rose."

"All because of Alice and her damned visions!"

"You can leave if want."

"She's just an ordinary human, nothing exceptional. You're risking far too much for her, Edward. Either change her, or just _kill_ her! I know which one you'll end up with, anyway."

"Rosalie!" Edward uttered her name with a feral snarl, which startled everyone, including Rosalie. He was absolutely livid, and he made no attempt to hide it anymore.

Alice pushed against Edward to make him back off. She then wedged herself between him and Rosalie, fearing that a battle of strength might ensue. Esme held Rosalie back by her shoulders and tried to calm her down.

_She must be a witch! He never showed any appreciation for my beauty!_ Rosalie barked at the top of her mental lungs._ Scoundrel! I hope ends up killing her!_

Carlisle entered the hall along with Emmett and Jasper, all visibly shocked and worried. Without wasting any time, Jasper used his power to quell the raging anger of both Edward and Rosalie.

As the false calm filled the space, Carlisle requested Rosalie to leave the hall. He didn't want the confrontation to get out of hand.

"I don't even want to stay here and discuss his foolish antics," Rosalie growled at Edward, her own rage bubbling over Jasper's calm. "I'm not staying here anymore; I don't want to see this _phony_ wedding!" Emmett called after her as she stomped away, but she made no attempt to stop and listen. Reluctantly, he followed her to their room upstairs.

But no one paid attention to the couple; they were all focused on Edward.

"Edward, no…" Alice whispered, filled with dread. She could see the vision steered by Edward's thoughts. It was getting clearer as the moments passed.

"I have decided," Edward spoke in an even tone, "none of you will stay here in my house after Isabella comes here to live."

Alice tried to interrupt him again, but he ignored her pleas.

"All of you, except Rosalie, are welcome to stay till the wedding ceremonies are over, but not afterwards. It's _my_ house, and thus, _I_ get to decide who stays here and who doesn't."

"But, Edward, we're not against this wedding," Esme said in a pleading voice, crushed by Edward's pronouncement.

"I'm not going to change my decision. I let it go too far. I gave you all too much liberty, but I think it's time for a reminder. I'm _not_ a part of your coven. I left long time back."

Carlisle stepped up and tried to talk to him, to make him ease his stance. "Edward, think about what you're saying—"

Jasper's calming effect waned as Edward's rage returned. "I'm not answerable to any one of you! Do _not_ try to influence me!"

_You do not have to remind me that, Son. _Carlisle's face suddenly appeared to show the weariness of the centuries he had endured. But Edward refused to look into his eyes.

_Please, Edward, don't be so cold toward us. _Esme looked at him longingly, wishing he would listen to her._ I promise you unequivocally, none of us would come in your way…_

"I would let you visit, Esme, but I cannot change my decision. It was getting out of hand. I don't want the disturbance. I want my peace of mind." Edward's tone softened a little, but stayed firm.

"Peace of mind?" Alice laughed a humourless laugh, now enraged with Edward's decree. "As if Bella's thoughts wouldn't disturb you."

Edward grimaced at her. "I surely would have liked the disturbance from her thoughts now and then."

Alice's brows knotted in confusion. _What does that mean?_

"Isabella is special," he spoke through clenched teeth, knowing he'd have to reveal the truth.

That caught everyone's attention. "How come?" they all asked in unison, all except Carlisle.

"I can't read her mind."

Loud gasps resounded inside the hall, as Edward's admission slowly sunk in. It shocked everyone, for Edward's powers had never faltered before.

"Think what you'd like to think. But let me make it clear, I'm _not_ changing my decision. You all have to leave after my wedding." Edward's face was cold as he uttered the next words. "And that's final. I won't bend."

It was his abode, and his decision, and no one dared to challenge him.

* * *

(The Official Wedding Invitation)

*******************************************************

**Mr. Charles Swan**

**Requests the pleasure of your company****  
****at the marriage of his niece,**

___**Miss Isabella Swan**_

**To**

___**Mr. Edward Masen**_

**On Sunday Eve, August 13th 1890, at**

**The Masen Residence, Forks Prairie.**

*******************************************************

* * *

**Reviews would make my bed more comfortable, I might even recover faster. lol  
**

**But man! Being unwell sucks!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** First of all, thanks for the wishes, I'm recovering well now, and feel awesometastic!

**__****Second, please vote for this fic in the Indie Twific awards (if you think it deserves). **

**__****LINK - given in my profile (The voting closes on 13th July midnight EST.)**

NOTE: Jasper's accent reading - **Basically, just keep this in mind, Yorkshire accent deletes the letter 'H'. So, if someone says something that has 'H' in it, then he removes 'H' from it all together.**

**_EXAMPLE: human= 'uman; help= 'elp; hell= 'ell; have= 'ave ...and so on. _**

**_Just remember one thing, 'H' is always replaced by an apostrophe. Then you can read the accent without any problem.  
_**

And without much ado, here's the next chapter…

* * *

_This is so bizarre. Edward never faltered… I could feel 'er emotions clearly, then…_

_I wonder what it means for Edward to not hear someone's thoughts. This is the first time… Perhaps, there is some irregularity in Isabella's brain._

_If this is what keeps him happy, then I don't want to get in the way… I just wanted to stay close._

_But my visions were all clear, Bella was clear. I never had a problem… then why Edward?_

Edward tried to ignore the curious thoughts of his vampire family. Some of these thoughts were too loud, and hence, harder to ignore. Excluding Esme, all the thoughts were centred around his mind reading ability, particularly, its failure. Edward didn't want to discuss this matter. He had told the rest as much, but unintentionally, their thoughts drifted toward this topic now and then.

"Just stop it," he hissed, "don't you all have anything else to think about?"

Another influx of thoughts flooded his brain, filled with apologies this time.

A few minutes passed, wherein all the vampires in the manor tried to distract their thoughts away from Edward.

_Edward?_ Alice tentatively tried to reach him, fearing his wrath.

He didn't reply, knowing full well that if he did, everyone would train their ears to this conversation.

_I wanted to talk to you_, Alice edged forward with her thoughts, _regarding Rosalie._

Edward almost snapped the wooden edge of the window he was standing at. Anger boiled inside him, and instantly, he flashed across the hall and out of the manor.

_Edward, wait!_ Alice tried to follow him, but he was too fast for her. _You can still hear me, I know that. Please listen to me…_

Edward didn't respond. He flitted about the forest, in hope of finding peace. This was the worst part of having others in his house; he had become practically homeless. He couldn't stay in the manor for long, because all the thoughts floating around the house disturbed him. This was one of the reasons behind his cruel decision to make his family leave the manor. Peace of mind was precious to Edward, and he wanted it back, without having to run off from his own home.

When the mental ramblings from Alice faded and finally ceased, Edward stopped.

It had started to rain, but it didn't bother him. He knew—through Alice's visions—that by evening, the rains would vanish. He looked above at the heavens, feeling the light drizzle on his face, as cold as his skin. It helped in calming him.

Despite the rain, the cloudy sky was beginning to lighten. The sun was slowly rising, hidden behind the clouds. The day was beginning, albeit, languorously. It was the day Edward had waited for with much anticipation… the day of his wedding. He was trying to keep his temper even, but his verbal confrontation with Rosalie had made him tetchy.

_Oh Edward!_

Edward's head snapped up at the sound of Rosalie's voice. He was surprised—a rarity—to hear from her, for she had expressed her wish to leave.

"What are you doing here, Rosalie?" he growled in the direction from where her thoughts came. He was furious, so much that he uprooted a tree from beside him.

_Don't you run away, Edward. I cometh in peace._

With great effort, Edward pulled himself back from the red haze of rage. He had to remind himself of Isabella and her frail humanity, which didn't stand a chance against his temper.

"I'm not the one to run away, Rose," his voice became cold and even, sans the growling. "Your peace is immaterial. If you dare say one putrid word about Bella—"

"Halt please, Edward. Your diatribe is tiresome!" Rosalie came into view from behind the thick coppice, her expression guarded.

"I don't have the patience for your foolish mental vitriol either," he snapped, "why have you come back?"

"To apologize," she muttered.

"You think I would believe that?" The venom in his voice made her flinch, but she smiled nonetheless.

"You probably should, Edward," she said with fake sweetness, which Edward caught immediately.

Rosalie took a few hesitant steps in his direction, and he stiffened. "Stay back, I don't want Emmett to lose his mate."

She raised her hands, a gesture to let Edward know that she wasn't interested in a fight.

_So that is why you were so hell-bent on marrying her? Because you can't read her mind?_

"Enough, Rose!"

"I was just curious, Edward." She shrugged. "Now that I understand, your obsession for her seems quite reasonable."

Edward grimaced at her words. "I don't need your approval. Besides, it changes nothing. You aren't welcome here anymore."

"I can understand that. But why are you punishing the rest of the family for what _I_ said?" she asked, arching her eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Your vanity is has not limits," Edward laughed darkly. "It has nothing to do with what _you_ said. Others were annoying me in their own ways. I don't like infringement in my private life."

_What did I ever do to you, Edward?_ Alice's thoughts suddenly sprang up in his head, catching him off guard.

Edward smacked his head with his hands, frustrated at the intrusion again. "Alice, do you want me to send you away _before_ the wedding?"

Rosalie smiled smugly, as Alice jumped next to her from a nearby tree branch. "You cannot do that; the wedding will not be completed without me."

"You aren't needed to complete the ceremonies, Alice." Edward could see the stance that both Alice and Rosalie held; it was clear that this conversation was premeditated. Then, as Rosalie caught up with his inspection, her thoughts faltered and gave him the evidence that proved his suspicions right.

"So you made Rosalie apologise to me, thinking that I would change my mind and let you stay," Edward spoke through his teeth. His anger had now reached a plateau; he wanted to hold on to it and not boil over again.

Alice looked accusingly at Rosalie, who shrugged and moved away from her.

"You may leave now, Rose. I believe that's the best for you under these circumstances," Edward said, closing the distance between him and Alice in a flash.

Rosalie made a disgusted face at him. "I did what I could," she told Alice, as she retreated into the thicket.

Alice turned her head away from Rosalie to face Edward, her expression ridden with guilt.

"Alice," he said, more calmly now, as Rosalie had left. "What shall I say to make you understand? I'm not banishing you for all of eternity. You should understand the reason behind this decision."

"But, Edward, I love her too, in my own way," she stated fervently.

Edward almost twitched at her words, feeling an odd emotion course through him. He composed himself quickly, for fear that Alice may notice. "You can visit us," he said coolly, "whenever you feel like seeing her. Bella and I are getting married today, Alice. She will need some time to settle down with me. I don't want any disturbances during this time."

Alice's eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm not a petulant child, Edward," she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I understand that. I'm not pining away for Bella, either. What _really_ is bothering me is her general safety around you."

"I won't slip," he retorted heatedly. "Stop talking to me as if I'm a newborn."

"My visions tell me something else," she said defiantly. "At least, someone should be here to warn you of your slipping control."

"I'd rather you stay away."

"But what if my visions come true? Who is going to stop you then?" She repeated her visions in her head to restate her point.

"I'm saying this for the last time, Alice, I will make sure that Bella is safe." He glared at her, offended by her accusations.

"I don't know how to say this, Edward, but please be careful when you are… with her." The images inside Alice's head made him cringe, but he understood what she was trying to convey.

"I won't hurt her, Alice," he said softly, "I'm not a savage."

Alice gave him a reluctant smile. _I want you to be happy, Edward, for I've seen you suffer_. "It is indeed very selfish of us, to just bother about you and ignore Bella's wellbeing. Yet, we are only supporting you because Carlisle and Esme have faith in you. That even though you have killed many a sentient creatures, there is still a shred of humanity left inside of you."

Feeling uncomfortable with her words, Edward tried to interrupt her, but she silenced him with her finger.

"Our nature doesn't allow us to be close to humans, but it isn't wholly impossible. Carlisle and Esme, perhaps, have more faith in you than any of us. Just don't let that faith die, Edward…"

Edward sighed; he had nothing to say. Alice's words had shaken him up.

"And I apologise for being intrusive. I just wanted to help, to keep _their_ hopes unbroken," she whispered, her eyes anxious.

"I…" Edward hesitated, feeling the weight of others' expectations. "I do understand that, but we—Bella and I—need some privacy now. Even though you might not want to intervene, your thoughts find a way to disturb me."

She nodded. "Carlisle is of a similar view. He wants all of us to settle down in Port Angeles. That way, we would be close enough to visit you often, but far enough not to disturb you."

"Very thoughtful of him." Edward felt a pang of guilt as he thought about Carlisle, but he repressed it at once.

"There is still one thing that's irking me," Alice said cautiously, taking a step back to put some distance between them.

He waited for her to continue.

_Why is she immune to your mind reading?_

"I really don't have the answer for that query. I'm as enlightened as you are," he answered with a groan of frustration.

Alice tilted her head and rubbed her chin in thought. "Perhaps," she said after a minute of mulling over, "she was made for you. Because she is the only person who wouldn't _disturb_ you in your head, and you won't banish her." She smirked at him.

"I would like to believe that…" Edward gave her a tight smile, his mind wandering off to Isabella.

"Now, I think we should head back home," Alice said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "There are things that I need to take care of, and you need to be there as well. After all, it's _your_ wedding day." That made him laugh, a bit nervously.

He nodded and then offered his hand to her, which she playfully slapped away. They flitted back to the manor together, to prepare for the grand day.

* * *

As evening approached, Edward grew progressively more restless. The cause of his unease hadn't gone away, as he had assumed. Rosalie and Emmett were still hovering around the manor as willing partakers in the wedding.

Edward paced in front of the fireplace, his eyes locked on Rosalie, who was ignoring him on purpose. She was sharing her ideas with Esme, to help her with the final flower arrangement.

Jasper was quick to respond to Edward's oscillating emotions. _Alice asked them to leave, but they wanted to stay. Rosalie and Emmett want to see your wedding, and Alice assures that nothing will go wrong. Besides, people will notice if they aren't present, as they are a part of our family . So, to keep up pretences…_

"Very articulately put, Jasper." Edward shook his head in exasperation. "I'm tired of trying to control everything. So now, I'll tell _you_ keep an eye on things," he muttered, pointing at Rosalie in a covert manner.

_Esme is doing that…_

_Edward, don't worry, _Esme's voice overlapped Jasper's as she responded to Edward. _I'll make sure that she doesn't spoil this evening._

"Thank you," Edward whispered with gratitude. "Now, where is Alice?"

"With your 'uman doll," Jasper rolled his eyes, "dressing up the grand bride. She'll return once the bride is ready, and you know that it will take long."

Edward exhaled slowly, and gave Jasper a curt nod.

"You need Alice's assistance?" Jasper exclaimed in faux surprise, to rile Edward.

"Do I not? Everybody needs her assistance," Edward replied sarcastically. "The world cannot possibly function without her."

Jasper chortled at Edward and then sighed in agreement, "Aye, Alice is like a sun."

"A tiny one," Edward quipped, courting smirk.

Jasper laughed again. "I wish you'd say this on 'er face."

"Keep waiting with bated breath."

"I can do that." Jasper winked. _Did you actually need Alice? I can in inform 'er if such is the matter_, he asked on a more serious note.

"No…" Edward shook his head. "Let her be."

He then excused himself and escaped into the confines of his room, to prepare himself for the wedding. Now, all his thoughts were concentrated on thing only—the wedding. In about an hour, he was going to meet Isabella …at the altar. He was pleased with the prospect.

* * *

Isabella sat compliantly at the dressing table, while Angela and Alice whirled about her. Alice was braiding Isabella's hair while Angela took care of her accessories.

"Angela, Alice, please… you're making me anxious," she complained. "Calm down, or else I'll lose my marbles."

"It's almost time, Issy, we cannot slow down," Angela said, hurrying past her. She then turned towards Alice and extended her hand. "Give the choker to me."

Alice indicated to the settee positioned to her left, her hands never leaving Isabella's hair.

"Choker?" Isabella wiggled her head to see what Angela and Alice were up to, but Alice turned her head back towards the mirror.

"Bella, please be still," Alice scolded her.

"Your bridal jewellery," Angela replied, flashing the piece in front of Isabella. "A gift from the bridegroom."

Isabella observed the pearl-lined band as Angela curled it around her neck.

"Sapphire…" she whispered as she stared at central jewel of the choker, fitted into its oval clasp. Edward had done exactly what he had said. Isabella blushed furiously at the memory.

"Yes, sapphire," Alice sighed, her lips twitching ever so slightly. Isabella scrunched her brows in confusion, mulling Alice's strange response. But Alice's neutral expression didn't give her any clues.

"And here are the earrings." Angela slipped the oval earrings into Isabella's lobes and turned her face so that she could admire them better. "Here's hoping that you like this set."

"It is pretty, very pretty." A hint of a frown clouded Isabella's face as her fingers traced the pearls. These fancy gifts only reminded her of her uncle's financial strain.

"Get used to the baubles, Bella," Alice said wryly, "My brother thinks that it's the only way to please a lady."

"Hmm…" Isabella's stomach twisted in a knot as she thought about her would-be husband. It was unfamiliar territory for her. If there was anything that could frighten Isabella out of her wits, it was the unknown.

"Now, what are thinking about?" Angela tapped Isabella's shoulder, looking concerned.

Isabella swallowed loudly, for her mouth felt dry. "I was wondering," she mumbled hoarsely, "why are you and Alice the only ones to help me here?"

Angela was quick to answer back, "Because we want to, and we didn't trust anyone else with the task." Her eyes narrowed as they drifted towards Isabella's shaking hands. "Issy, what were you _actually_ thinking?"

Isabella laughed nervously, thinking about something else that would satisfy Angela. She, at that moment, thought of Charles. "Where is Uncle?" she asked with renewed anxiety. "I haven't seen him since last night, when he left me at your home. He told me he was leaving for Port Angeles, why has he not returned yet?"

"He… will return," Angela answered, her face looking guilty.

"Do you know something about his trip, which you'd like to share with me, perhaps?" Isabella eyed Angela suspiciously.

Angela fidgeted under Isabella's insistent gaze. "He will tell you himself."

"He will be home soon, Bella, don't you worry," Alice reassured Isabella.

"How—" Isabella stopped midsentence, as she caught Charles's reflection in the mirror.

"Issy?" he called from the door, "Is the old man allowed inside?"

"Uncle!" Isabella stood up, uncaring of Alice's hands still holding her hair. Alice let her go immediately.

Isabella rushed to Charles, feeling a desperate need to be with him, as though he would fade away if she blinked. "Where have you been? I was waiting for you since morning." She caught him in a tight hug, noticing that he was already dressed for the wedding.

"I had a few errands to run, Issy," Charles said, as Isabella hid her face in his chest.

"What errand?" she asked, trying to sound casual, but her voice almost broke at the end of the sentence.

Charles took hold of her shoulders and eased her back to make her face him. "This thing right here," he mumbled softly, and then took out a white box from his pocket. "A gift for you…"

"What is this, Uncle?" Isabella looked at the box with surprised eyes.

"Something old and something blue," he replied, opening the box to show its contents.

Inside the box were two silver hair combs. Dark blue sapphires were clustered into intricate floral shapes atop the teeth.

Isabella stared at the combs for a long time, silent and contemplative.

"They were your Grandma Swan's. She had given them to your Aunt Clara… and now, they're yours," Charles said, handing her the white box. "I had gone to Port Angeles to get them polished."

Alice came up from behind her and took the box from her shaky hands. She retrieved the combs and slid them into Isabella's hair under the edge of the thick braids.

On the verge of tears, Isabella held Charles's hands and peered into his eyes. "Thank you, Uncle… for everything."

"I should be the one to say thank you, Issy. You gave me the chance to be your father." He kissed her on the forehead and patted her shoulders affectionately. "You look beautiful… like the angel you are."

The answering smile from Isabella had melancholy hidden behind it. She didn't want to leave her uncle, but she had no choice but do so.

"Bella, it's time," Alice prompted from behind.

A tiny tear trickled down Isabella's cheek as she moved away from Charles. She gave a reluctant nod to Alice and Angela, to advance toward the Masen Residence.

Isabella drew in a slow breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. She didn't want to fall apart, not in front of her uncle. She knew that Charles would not be able endure that. She had vowed to herself that she'd not let anything hurt Charles. Hence, she steeled herself for the ceremony.

Angela and Alice quickly covered their heads under a short veil that matched their rose coloured gowns. They covered Isabella's head with the white tulle veil and accompanied her to the manor, along with Charles.

The manor was already bustling with guests. Alice had invited almost everyone from Forks Prairie. A profusion of white and rose-pink abounded in the flower arrangements, adorning doorways, balustrades, and windows.

"Bella, you don't have to worry, we have taken care of everything," Alice whispered in Isabella's ear, as they prepared for their grand entrance. "Edward is waiting at the altar; you just have to walk up to him."

Isabella nodded, while staring straight ahead. Alice then moved behind, and let Charles hold her hand.

The bridal processional began as soon as the music started flowing from the hall. Isabella's heart thudded in her chest, but she tried to look impassive, for Charles's sake. Her hands clutched her chatelaine tightly, as though it would fall off any moment.

Upon reaching the altar, Charles gave her hand in Edward's, and thus, the ceremony began…

For Isabella, the ceremony passed in a state of limbo. She followed every word and performed her part rather mechanically. Fearing an impending fit of hysteria, she had closed her thought process on purpose, lest everyone became a witness of her panicked state. As a result, she hardly looked at Edward. The only thing she noticed was that he wearing dark blue, nothing else registered in her mind. But the self imposed miasma vanished the moment Edward lifted her veil. It was her body's natural reaction to him.

He held her face in his hands and softly pressed his cool lips to hers. He withdrew himself quickly, but it was enough to jolt her every nerve.

Edward gazed at Isabella in admiration, as the clergyman declared them man and wife. Isabella was now his legitimate wife, and thought pleased Edward immensely. Even as everyone else rushed to congratulate them, his eyes remained on Isabella only. He was fixated on her, and nothing could move him enough to take his eyes off her.

His dead heart had almost thumped back to life when he had first caught a glimpse of her in Angela's mind. Her soft perfection had always enthralled him, but she looked even more appealing to him on this day, dressed as his bride.

_Ah, I feel completely enamoured by 'er, Edward_, Jasper interrupted Edward's appreciation of Isabella, _and I feel something else as well, something unmentionable. Please curb yourself, dear brother…_

Edward scowled at Jasper, clearly not amused by his jibe. He shrugged and moved away from Edward, as the guests crowded around him.

Soon after, it was time for the wedding reception. Tables for the guests and the bridal party were arranged in the front lawns of the manor. All the vampires, including Edward, didn't like this part of their human pretence. Food didn't taste very appetizing to them; it tasted like dirt.

_Can we leave now? I really don't think I can follow the eating etiquette here_. Emmett looked panicked as he watched the trays filled with food.

Then, there were the three wedding cakes—one elaborate cake for the guests, and two smaller ones for the bride and groom.

Edward made a face at Alice, for she had been thorough in her wedding arrangements, down to the cakes.

_I think I can throw the food behind the 'edging plant in the corner_, thought Jasper, already cringing from the smell of food. _What are you going to do with your food and cake, Edward?_

"Eat it, I think," Edward replied with a straight face, keeping his voice too low for the humans to hear. "I'm being watched here, very carefully."

_Good luck with that, brother, I admire your valour._ Jasper's mouth twitched into a smirk, but he straightened himself soon, fearing a backlash from Edward.

Angela, the maid of honour, along with Alice, took care of the guests, while Isabella sat beside Edward at their table.

_She's not eating much, take care of her_, Esme prompted Edward from the far end. _Humans need nourishment more than our kind._

Edward turned towards Isabella and looked into her eyes. "You aren't eating anything, why is that?" he asked softly.

"I am… I am," she replied in a stunted manner, her voice quivering slightly.

He watched her closely, as she nibbled on. Her eyes then drifted to his plate, and she asked him the same question, "Why aren't _you_ eating?"

Edward could hear the laughter from Emmett and Jasper as he stuffed his mouth with food and cake.

Alice smiled at him, letting him know through her thoughts that she was proud of him.

Edward then prompted Isabella to eat some more. She refused vehemently, but he served her another helping of cake nonetheless.

_Stuffing the pig before slaughter?_ Rosalie sniggered at Edward from across the table, careful not to catch any human eye.

Edward stiffened at her words, his fingers coiling around his fork.

_I'm sure you will find your next victim without much trouble… if this arrangement doesn't work._

Edward tried not to react to Rosalie's taunts; they were surrounded by humans, and he didn't want them to witness his reaction.

_Let's make a wager on Bella's life, _shecontinued, paying no heed to Edward's rising anger_, if she lives through the first fortnight of her marriage, then I won't visit to you for a century._

Edward trained his eyes on Isabella, to hold on to last shred of patience left in him. Isabella's warm chocolate eyes met his as he stared at her. Her eyes widened in response, and a soft gasp escaped her lips. He saw his own reflection in the brown irises, and was instantly repulsed.

He turned his face away from Isabella and tried to dilute his expression. But Rosalie's mental chatter was infuriating him. She was repeating the same revolting thoughts again and again.

_What is the matter, Edward?_ Alice asked him suddenly, her thoughts merely reaching him over Rosalie's loud ones.

Edward didn't reply, he knew he would lose his façade of calmness if he did. He tried to remain composed until the wedding was over.

As the wedding dinner came to an end, the guests trickled out of the Masen Residence, leaving only close family and friends behind.

As the time for goodbyes came, Charles enveloped Isabella in his arms for a parting hug. Both had tears in their eyes. Angela came up behind Isabella to wish her goodbye. She waited patiently, as Charles whispered farewell to Isabella.

While Isabella said her goodbyes, Edward tried to rein his fury in. Alice asked Emmett to take Rosalie away, while Esme tried to calm Edward. Carlisle was silent, as he had been all through the wedding, and this also bothered Edward.

"We will take our leave now, Edward," Alice spoke in Edward's ear. "You'll have to carry her over the threshold, it's part of the ceremonies."

"I know that," he snapped, "Just keep that witch away."

"We have taken care of that." She gave a quick peck on his cheek and skipped away to bid farewell to the bride.

Isabella's vision was clouded by unshed tears as she said her goodbyes, but as soon as Charles and Angela left, they spilled over. Alice wiped them off and tried to comfort her, but she shook her head in defiance. She wasn't ready to share her grief yet.

The Cullens and Whitlocks soon gathered around the main door to take their leave. This confused Isabella, as she had expected them to stay at the manor. She didn't get enough time to dwell on the matter, as each one of them said goodbye and exited quickly.

Finally, the only people left behind were the attendants and housemaids, and newly wed couple.

Edward sent everyone away, and soon, Isabella found herself alone with him. Panic washed over her again as she saw him close the distance between them. The odd grimace still courted his face as he picked Isabella into his arms. She gasped, but didn't utter a single syllable of protest, as she knew about this ritual.

Edward carried her over the threshold and up the stairs with ease. Isabella wondered where he would stop, but couldn't muster enough courage to ask him.

Finally, Edward set her on her feet, next to his bedroom. Without a word, he opened his bedroom door and stepped inside, leaving the door ajar.

Isabella stared on, her hands gripping her gown tightly. She thought that she had gotten used to Edward and his strangeness, but now, she felt downright terrified of the man.

Edward roamed about his room, ignoring her altogether, as though she weren't standing there at the door. That made Isabella even more uncomfortable.

Then, Edward swiftly unbuttoned his blue tailcoat and threw it on the bed, followed by his waistcoat.

Isabella took a step back, quivering with dread and anticipation. Once again, the unknown made her shrink back.

Keeping his back towards her, Edward finally removed his shirt, letting it slip down his shoulders.

Isabella bit back a gasp of shock. The defined shoulders and marble-like musculature of Edward reminded her of the Greek gods in famous artworks. Still, her admiration didn't drown out her fear. She was still shaking, with beads of perspiration forming on her forehead.

Edward turned around to face her, his face hard and impassive. "Why are you still standing here?" he asked her coldly.

"I-I…" she stuttered nervously, "Where—"

"Go to your room, where else?" Edward waved towards his right. "The room next to mine is yours. Now go and change." His cold tone didn't change, and Isabella felt as though she had been slapped.

She turned and moved towards the next room, her eyes filled with tears again. Edward's odd mood change had disturbed her, but she didn't want him to see its effect on her.

Isabella closed the door forcefully behind her, feeling the hysteria creeping over her again. She didn't like Edward's behaviour one bit, but she knew she couldn't protest. He was her husband now, and she was trapped in this fortress with him. The security of her own room felt better than to share her space with him.

But the night was still young, and Isabella feared this long night. It was her wedding night, and she wasn't looking forward to spending it with Edward…

* * *

_**Come and pay me a visit on Twilighted forums - http://www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=33&t=5128**_

_**^ the thread for Monster's Serenade**_


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** First off, **a tutorial in Victorian unmentionables** (underthings, lol) Drawers, or bloomers as they were later on called, were the undergarments for women in those times. AND they were crotchless, please remember that they were **_crotchless. _**Thank you…

**_Now, due your love and affection, my dear readers, Monster's Serenade has reached the final round of the Indie Twific Awards. So if you want this fic to win the best AU WIP award, please vote for it. _**

**_Link – _****_http://theindietwificawards [dot] com/vote [dot] aspx (or go to my profile for a clickable link)_**

**_Voting closes on 29th July, 11:59AM, EST._**

Now here's your bribe for voting, hehe

Naah kidding, enjoy the chapter :-)

* * *

Isabella paced nervously in her room, her fingers twisting around a lock of her hair. Her wedding night was giving her a living nightmare, and she wanted it to pass as soon as possible.

The constant pacing exhausted her quickly, and she slumped on the bed. Resting her head gingerly on the soft pillows, she wished to be in _her_ room, at _her_ home, with Charles.

A loud thud from the other side of the wall caught her attention, and she nearly jumped out of her bed in fear.

Isabella didn't like hearing this sound; it meant that Edward was still awake. It had been deathly quiet for almost two hours, so she had assumed that he was already asleep. The noise brought back the dread, and Isabella shrank back into the bed.

She trained her ears for more sounds, particularly from the room adjoining hers. No further thuds or bangs followed afterwards. It was back to the deathly silence.

Isabella remained glued to her bed, like a frightened child who had awoken from a nightmare. Edward's harsh expression loomed in her memory, and she wondered what she had done to invite such wrath.

Her throat felt dry and itchy, and she realized how thirsty she was. She looked around frantically, hoping to find a glass of water, but there was none.

Slinging her legs off the bed, she stood up at once, forced out of her current safe haven by her thirst. She padded across the room to the door.

Isabella felt loathe to leave her room, for she didn't want to face Edward again. She creaked the door open slightly, half-expecting to see Edward marching about like an angry giant. To her relief, no one was haunting the corridor.

She tiptoed out of the room, trying her best to be as silent as possible. Creeping down the colossal stairs, she went straight to the kitchen. Although she could see that no one was there, a strange feeling kept nagging at her, as if someone was observing her every move. She shivered at the thought.

The kitchen was dark, and Isabella found it hard to navigate around the unfamiliar forms. She bumped into unknown things, and it annoyed her immensely.

"At the very least they could keep a candle in here," she muttered to herself, frustrated and thirstier than before. Her vision got better as the minutes passed, but only marginally.

Her hands traced the flat wall on one side of the kitchen but found nothing. As she removed herself from the wall, she bumped into something again, something that wasn't there before. The coldness and the hardness of it wasn't the same as the kitchen counter.

Instantly, goose pimples rose on Isabella's back. She turned around in haste and lost her balance in the dark. Cold hands steadied her against the wall, gripping her waist. A low gasp escaped her lips as Edward's smouldering eyes met hers. They seemed to be glowing in the dark.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, a hint of irritation in his tone.

"I-I was thirsty," she answered in a wavering voice.

He glared at her, as though she had offended him somehow. This puzzled her. _What did I ever do to make him behave like this?_ she thought resentfully.

Ever so slightly, his hands tightened around her petite frame, his fingers sliding against the soft fabric of her nightgown. It felt as though he was feeling her skin through her gown, tracing the curve of her waist. Isabella gulped loudly, her throat feeling dryer than before. Her knees suddenly felt weak.

Edward's eyes flickered to his hands and then back to Isabella's face. He was lost in the softness of her body, feeling it through her clothes. She was so warm and pliant; he was struggling to keep his focus. Then, as if to taunt him further, she started gnawing her lower lip.

He stared at her lips like a starved man, while his thumbs began to move in small circles around her ribs. He closed his eyes momentarily to regain some of his lost control. It was all he could do not to haul her over his shoulder and take her like a savage.

_I'm sure you will find your next victim without much trouble… if this arrangement doesn't work._

Rosalie's spiteful words suddenly echoed inside his head, and that promptly halted his salacious thoughts. He wanted to have Isabella, but he also wanted to prove Rosalie wrong. Her words had planted only an ounce of doubt in his brain, but this doubt was enough to make him hesitant. He wanted to be completely sure of himself.

While he weighed his options, Isabella squirmed in his grasp, like an apt prey, trapped in its predator's clutches.

"I-I just wanted w-water," she stuttered, looking apprehensive. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, while beads of perspiration started forming on her forehead.

Her sheer vulnerability endeared her to him, and thus, he softened his stance.

"You could have hurt yourself, rummaging in the dark," he scolded her while trying to avoid thinking about the consequences of such an occurrence. He would definitely be the last person who could help Isabella if she hurt herself and spilt even a tiny bit of blood. "Why didn't you come to me?"

Isabella lowered her gaze but remained silent.

He drew closer, and she shrunk back into the wall, her reluctant gaze back on his face.

"Bella, answer me," he whispered anxiously.

Her eyes widened a little, and he heard her heart stutter a beat. "I… didn't want to disturb you," she said rather breathlessly.

Edward released her waist and grasped her hands instead. Swiftly, he pulled her out of the kitchen and brought her to the grand hall. Without a word, he went back into the kitchen and returned with a jug full of water.

Isabella eagerly took it from him; her dainty hands clutching it like a long awaited present. She then looked at his empty hands expectantly.

"Glass?"

Edward stared at her, bemused. "Pardon?" he asked, feeling as though one of his senses had been snatched from him. Being with Isabella made him feel slightly incompetent sometimes, slightly… _human_.

Isabella pursed her lips, looking frustrated at his inability to understand her. "That's fine; I'll take the jug with me. Thank you," she said quickly and then turned around towards the stairs.

Edward grabbed her elbow as she started for the stairs and pulled her back. He didn't want her to leave, not so soon. "What were you trying to convey earlier?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"That I needed a glass or a goblet, to pour water from this jug," she replied softly, her voice losing its strength.

Edward blinked and then understood. He had made a minor blunder. It was a very normal human requirement, a _glass_ of water, and he gave her a whole jug. He was unable to comprehend these minor human nuances of Isabella. His mind-reading helped in overcoming this difficulty with others but not with her.

"Do you… drink straight from a pitcher?" Isabella asked meekly. She moved her arm surreptitiously, and he felt her slipping from his soft grasp. He tightened his hold on her, and that stopped her attempts to pull herself free.

"No," he answered and continued in his thoughts, _I drink straight from the jugular_.

"I do need a glass." She looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I'll bring a glass." He let go of her arm and then went back into the kitchen.

Isabella stared after him, feeling every bit as uneasy as on their first meeting, perhaps even more so. She wanted to be back in her room as soon as possible. Edward's presence threatened her in unknown ways.

He returned quickly with a glass in his hands. She took it from him without any delay.

"Thank you," she mouthed hoarsely and then hurried up the stairs. She didn't look back to see his expression she was much too scared to do it.

Once back in her room, Isabella exhaled slowly, trembling with opposing emotions. A part of her wanted to cringe away from Edward, but a strange and unwise part of her wanted to seek him out.

Edward baffled her. His mercurial moods frightened her, yet there was an allure to him that she found hard to resist. It made her feel uneasy, very similar to the feeling of the unknown.

She shook her head, trying to shake his effect off that even fear wasn't able to drown.

Carefully, she closed her bedroom door and hopped over to the bedside to quench her thirst. She poured herself a glass of water and sipped slowly, instead of chugging it down her throat in large gulps.

When she finished her second glass of water, she heard the lilting notes of a piano from somewhere around the manor. The sound was muffled by the walls of her room but not enough to diminish its beauty.

She listened carefully; the music felt pleasant to her ears, and she wanted to hear more. She moved out of her room once again, with curiosity driving her to find the source of the beautiful sound.

As Isabella walked towards the room at the end of the corridor, the sound got stronger and stronger. She realized that she had been there before when Edward had shown his art collection to her. The piano had been there at that time as well, but Isabella hadn't paid much attention to it.

As she approached the piano room, the music stopped abruptly. With the music, the magical pull was also gone, and Isabella found herself in the grip of fear and uncertainty again.

_Of course, it is Mr. Masen,_ she thought. _Who else would be playing the piano here, at this hour?_

As she contemplated bolting back to her room, the music began again, picking up where it had left. Isabella couldn't leave.

She peeped inside the room, more curious than ever. There, she saw Edward, running his long fingers deftly across the piano keys, a deep concentration on his face. As she observed him play, his lips seemed to twitch infinitesimally.

The unfamiliar melody was coming to an end, yet Isabella couldn't help but stand there in the doorway. Edward brushed his fingers over the keys one last time and then sighed.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" he asked suddenly, jolting her up.

Edward turned towards Isabella and gave her a wicked smirk. "I can catch the ones who lurk."

Isabella stood very still at the door, not sure of what she should say. He stood up and walked up to her, then guided her inside the room by holding her waist. She could feel the chill of his hands through her nightdress.

He brought her to a chaise lounge and gestured for her to sit down.

Moving back to the piano, he looked at her with yearning in his eyes. "Do you want me to play some more?"

She nodded, but kept quiet.

When Edward started playing again, it was a different melody, sweeter than the previous one. It was soft and alluring, and she felt like closing her eyes as the notes filled her ears. The music eased her frazzled nerves and lessened her inhibitions.

"Who wrote this?" she spoke finally, moving herself back to lie down against the lounge. "I haven't heard it before."

"I'm sure you haven't. I wrote it."

"Hmm, it is beautiful…" she sighed blissfully.

"Thank you…"

The music continued, like an endless string of beautiful notes, and Isabella found herself relaxing to its sweet cadences.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself back on her bed with the quilts wrapped around her. Feeling out of sorts, she heaved herself on her elbow and looked around.

The deep grey, stormy sky greeted her as she peered out of the window. To her surprise, it was morning already.

Isabella slumped back into her bed and thought about last night, for she couldn't remember how she got into her bed. She turned around on her side, feeling restless, and then her eyes widened.

She had woken up in her bed in the morning, and she could smell it on her pillows and quilts… they were filled with Edward's scent.

The music, the piano, and Edward; all the memories of last night came back to her, except how she got into her bed with Edward.

* * *

Edward studied the blanket of grey clouds from his study window. They swirled around and changed forms, but they remained hanging in the sky like a restive beast.

The air seemed oppressive, as though the beast had reached its limit and couldn't wait anymore. Soon, the clouds would burst open with pouring rain. The beast would get its release, but not Edward. His release seemed elusive and difficult to reach.

Only he knew the extent to which he desired Isabella. She slept soundly through the night, right there in his arms. She was warm and supple, too tempting to be left untouched, yet he didn't take her. Edward didn't want to do it while she was unaware. He wanted her as a willing participant; he wanted to hear her approval, her want for him.

The only thing he didn't want was her death… at his hands.

"I'll prove Rosalie wrong; I sure as hell will prove that bloody harpy wrong," he muttered to himself.

As he verbally abused Rosalie, he heard someone approach his study. By reading the muted thoughts from the other side, he knew who it was.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently when he heard a knock at his door.

The door cracked open, and Charles's anxious face popped in.

"Charles?" Edward tried to sound surprised as he gestured for Charles to come in.

"Good morning," Charles hesitated and then completed his sentence with a hint of spite, "Sir."

"Ah, good morning." Edward smiled broadly at Charles and put both his hands behind his head in a relaxed manner. "You're here early," he said mockingly, "is there something important that needs your attention here?"

"I—well…" Charles studied Edward's mannerisms; as Edward had thought, he was worried about his niece's wedding night.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Or are you here to work with Mr. Langley?" Edward asked impatiently.

"Well, actually Sir—"

Edward cut Charles's words off with a languid yawn.

"It was a long night, and I hardly got to sleep," Edward admitted with a lazy sigh.

Charles stiffened, and his face turned bright red with anger and contempt.

Edward's smile grew, turning into a wicked grin. "Yes, you were saying?"

"I wanted to see Isabella," Charles spoke though gritted teeth, struggling to control his anger.

"Ah! Bella," Edward sighed again and gave Charles a look of pure bliss. "I'm afraid, Charles, she is still sleeping. I believe she's very _tired_… after the events of last night—I mean, last evening."

Charles's face reddened further as Edward's suggestive words elicited more fury inside him.

Edward felt thoroughly entertained by Charles's reaction. It was exactly as he had hoped. Even though his wedding night went barren and eventless, he was determined to get his ounce of amusement from it.

Charles gripped his chair's arms in an attempt to keep himself from lunging at Edward's throat, and this only amused Edward further.

Edward then stood up abruptly, as he heard Isabella leaving her room. "Let us go sit inside the grand hall," he suggested, "and wait for Bella to come downstairs."

Charles mutely followed him out of the study and into the hall.

Edward didn't want to miss another opportunity to irritate him, so he moved as quickly as humanly possible to meet Isabella at the stairs before she would see Charles.

"Bella!" he exclaimed as he saw her stepping down the stairs. He ascended swiftly and met her half way through the spiral staircase. Positioning himself in front of her, he purposefully blocked her view of Charles.

"Bella, love, you're awake!"

"Umm, yes?" Isabella stared at him, looking bewildered by his sudden approach.

He took hold of her face and planted a string of kisses on her cheeks and lips. "Bella, sweet Bella…" he sighed on her lips and deepened the kiss.

Isabella gasped in his mouth, and her sweet breath burned his throat, but it wasn't enough to keep him away from her. His tongue demanded entry, and Isabella complied. Her warm mouth opened itself to his explorations, and he claimed it enthusiastically.

For a moment, Charles was completely forgotten, and Edward concentrated wholly on Isabella. His hands slid to her waist and pulled her lush, warm body to his cold hard one. Her chest pressed against his own, and the heat surged through his body.

Downstairs, Charles looked on, angry and helpless to protest. After a while, his thoughts became so loud that Edward had to end his intimate embrace with Isabella. He pulled away slowly but still kept holding her, for she appeared wobbly and out of breath.

"If you're wondering how you reached your bed last night, well, you fell asleep on the lounge, and I carried you to your room," he told her with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I… see," she responded slowly, looking dazed.

"By the way, your uncle is here," he whispered in her ear and then moved back a step to smirk at her.

As he expected, her face flushed the prettiest colour of pink once she saw Charles standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, Uncle!" she rushed to Charles, leaving Edward behind.

A sudden wave of anger hit Edward as he saw how easily she left his side. It was very infantile on his part to feel jealous of Charles, but he couldn't help himself.

"I'll be in my study," Edward muttered to both Charles and Isabella as he brushed past them and exited the hall.

_I suppose the entertainment is over_, he thought bitterly, banging the study door behind him.

There in his study, he saw a stack of invitations at his table and groaned to himself. They were the post-wedding invitations, for lunch, or dinner, or any other meal he didn't want to attend.

* * *

_Edward…_

His head snapped up from his prey, and all the muscles in his body became taut with raw rage.

It wasn't the time first that it had happened; it seemed as though Rosalie was determined to pester him time and again.

"Rosalie!" he hissed, pushing the dead animal aside, "don't you dare!" The threat was open and very real, but Rosalie continued nonetheless.

_This time, I am here to actually apologise, Edward…_

"No, Rose, you are here to annoy me, nothing else!" he snarled in absolute rage.

_You can see it in my mind, I'm not here to spar with you or argue with you. I just want to have an honest conversation…_ The sound of her thoughts was weak; she was keeping a safe distance from him.

"And I know you have brought your perpetual guard dog with you." He could hear Emmett's thoughts as well, about the same distance as Rosalie's.

_Well, what can I say… you are very lethal when you're angry. I had to have some protection, for I've been the cause of this rage._

"Say what you want to say, and then go away!" Edward had made this hunting trip a long one in hopes that he'd be able to avoid all the annoying post wedding brunches and dinners. He never comprehended, however, that this trip would turn sour at the very end.

_I'm sorry for ruining your wedding. I couldn't help it…_ Rosalie continued her with her apologies.

"Why?" he asked curtly, letting his rage flow into his voice.

She gave him a vision of her human past, the ugly part where her human life came to a gory end. She repeated the painful memories in her head of when she was assaulted by her own fiancé and left to die on the streets of London.

Edward cringed at the mental images. "Why are you showing all that to me?"

_You know how weddings irk me..._

"So you went on and ruined mine, because someone else ruined your human life. How very justifiable." Edward's rage was now replaced by a feeling of disgust.

_You were going to force her, and it reminded me of… that time._

"I know that we both aren't fond of each other, Rose, but I'm so glad to know how highly you think of me."

_Well, you have been… frustrated for so long, so…_

Edward growled aloud. The last thing he wanted to discuss with her was his personal life. "I never heard you think very fondly of Bella either. What brought on the change of heart? Why are you so worried for her suddenly?" he asked, changing the subject of their conversation.

_I never said that I liked her. I'm indifferent towards her…_

"What motivated you to offer me that wager on Bella's life?"

_I wasn't, and am still not pleased that you've married a human. You're risking our secrecy. And then, I saw a glimpse of my own past… when I contemplated how you forced her to marry you. _

"She wouldn't have agreed to marry me otherwise," he admitted candidly, and changed the course of their conversation again. "Nevertheless, why weren't you forthright with me? I would have appreciated that better than your scathing words on my wedding day."

_You weren't very keen on talking to me…_

"Like your behaviour was very civil with me," he said sarcastically. "So you staged that wager just to—"

_Put doubt in your mind; I wanted you to leave her alone. I knew that I would get to you if I challenged you enough…_

Edward sighed in annoyance and frustration. "Am I that predictable?"

_I've known you for long time, Edward… that should count in some way. Besides, you're a man, and men can be brought down by a fair challenge._

He nodded silently, irritated with himself. "You're thoroughly infuriating, Rose, but you're right. I did want to prove you wrong."

_See?_ She laughed and then returned to the topic of Isabella. _So… __Bella is immune to your gift, it must be very frustrating for you._

"Yes, she's difficult to read without the help of my gift," he sighed longingly.

_I'll tell you something, Edward, something that you might not have realized about womenfolk, since it's not a conscious thought. _

"What?"

_Treat a woman like a goddess, and she will give you what you want…_

He considered that for a moment. "I _am_ trying," he admitted, and then decided to call it peace. "Rose?"

_Hmm?_

"Let's not bicker again, ever."

_I cannot promise you that… eternity is long time_, she thought with a giggle.

"Thank you…" he said fervently, "for talking to me with absolute candour."

_Yes, yes, you're welcome all the same._

"You're welcome too" He smiled then and added, "You're not banished for a century."

_I'll remember that._ She paused for a second, thinking of Isabella's face. _Oh, on a parting note, give her brandy, or wine… to keep her from getting cold._

Edward's jaw almost dropped in surprise upon hearing Rosalie's thoughts.

_Now, I'll take my leave. I wish you good luck, Edward. Just remember one thing,_she hesitated_,__ it's not the first time that a vampire is finding intimacy in a human's arms._

Although she didn't mention it overtly, her mind flitted to the Denali coven. She deliberately refrained from mentioning Tanya, knowing full well how it would irk Edward.

"I do remember that, Rosalie, very distinctly," he said in an even voice to hide his bitterness. "Take care. You too, Emmett."

He heard a hearty laugh from Emmett. "Yes, brother, take care," he responded, as he and Rosalie drifted away.

* * *

"Ma'am, let me." An attendant came to her and helped her take her coat off.

"Thank you," Isabella responded to which the attendant smiled softly. She then took the coat away to hang.

It felt weird to Isabella to have someone else do all the work for her.

She sighed and trudged towards her room. It had been a long day, and she didn't want to mull over the strangeness of her new lifestyle. The Stanleys had hosted a post-wedding lunch in her and Edward's honour, but she had to go alone, for Edward wasn't available. He was out on one of his surveyor trips across his logging properties. It had been an embarrassment, for the new couple was supposed to go together, and she had gone alone.

"Couldn't he postpone this trip? What was the hurry?" she muttered, feeling irritated at her husband. "He left just a day after the wedding… left me here to suffer all the questioning glances."

She changed her clothes quickly and went to eat dinner, not caring to wait for Edward. _He didn't eat with me the last two times, why should I care?_ she thought bitterly, _and God only knows when he'll return__._

Isabella finished her dinner without tasting it and then went to hide in her room again, for she was sick of seeing all the house servants stare at her in a strange way.

Once inside the sanctuary of her room, she busied herself by rearranging her closet and jewelry boxes.

Then, after a few hours of her fussing over the accessories, she heard a knock on her door. It was Edward, and she knew it by his silent approach. She got up and straightened herself immediately.

She opened the door quickly and greeted him in a civil manner. "How was your trip?" she asked coolly.

Edward captured her in his arms and nuzzled the crook of her neck, inhaling slowly. Isabella gasped in his arms, shocked at his unexpected move, all the bitterness forgotten.

"I apologise for being so late," he murmured into her neck, then lifted his face to meet her eyes, "I hope you had your dinner and didn't wait for me?"

"You can have supper with me," she offered timidly as she saw him close in for a kiss. His lips were cold as usual but ardent in their approach. All her resentment fell apart, and she surrendered into his embrace.

He pulled away suddenly and looked confusedly at her. "I'm not hungry, are you?"

"No…" she answered breathlessly as he moved away from her.

Edward tilted his head slightly and gave her a languorous smile. "Care to join me downstairs? I have kindled a fresh fire," he offered.

She gave him a slight nod. "I need to change for the night first."

"Ah, yes, of course." He gave her an appraising look from head to toe. "I'll be waiting."

He vacated the room promptly, leaving Isabella behind to calm her edgy nerves. His scorching gaze was enough to make her breathing uneven.

Isabella quickly changed into a white cotton nightgown. Her mind was racing. It was strange for Edward to request her company like this.

She descended down to the grand hall, her eyes locked on Edward, who looked occupied with something in his hands.

He turned towards her and gave her a breathtaking smile. "Bella!" He pulled her towards a settee and made her sit. "Have you ever tried cognac?" he asked, waving at the centre table, where a crystal decanter was placed, along with two cut-glass goblets.

Isabella shook her head. "Well, this is different," she muttered under her breath, feeling a little wary.

Edward laughed at her comment and then poured the golden-brown liquid from the decanter into a goblet. He offered it her.

Hesitantly, she took it from him and observed the liquid. Its colour reminded her of Edward's eyes, the only difference being his eye colour never stayed constant.

"Cognac…" she repeated the name, "a kind of brandy."

"Better than a mere brandy," he countered, "Take a sip, and you'll know the difference."

"I do know the difference," she said assertively and took a swig from the goblet. The rich taste of the liquid lingered on her tongue even after she had gulped it down. She could taste many flavours in it, some woody, some floral, a bit of vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon… a bit like Edward.

"It's a little stormy tonight; it might get cold afterwards. I thought I should acquaint you with the cognac," he said casually.

"Hmm, it's very…," she struggled to find the right word for it, "rich."

"Yes, it's exquisite." A shadow of a frown fell on Edward's handsome face, but then he changed his expression and locked eyes with her. "I hope you like it?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes," she admitted, and Edward poured some more. Her eyes drifted to the other empty goblet on the table. "Why aren't you taking it? You're always cold; it may help you with that."

She watched him closely as his eyes shifted a little, and his cheerful expression faltered a little.

"I'll do that," his voice sounded a little cold suddenly, "but you can have yours without waiting for me to join."

Isabella didn't respond; she sipped the golden-amber liquid slowly, while observing Edward's moves as he poured himself a fix from the decanter.

He then moved along the lounge and sat close to her.

The cognac was slowly taking its effect on Isabella. She tilted her head towards Edward and noted that his goblet was already gone from his hands. "I do feel warmer now," she said, "how about you?"

Edward quirked an eyebrow at her and then cupped her cheek in his cold hand. She shivered at the contrasting temperatures. "I don't think that it has warmed me enough," he said in a seductive voice, "would you like to help a little?"

Isabella knotted her brows together. "How could I be of any help?"

"Let me show you," he offered and then hauled her over his lap.

A small giggle escaped her lips while her heart fluttered in her chest. "I'm not sure," she countered as her empty hand trailed to his neck.

"I am…" Edward pulled her in for a kiss, gently sucking on her lower lip while his hand coursed through her mahogany tresses.

The usual restrain slipped from her, and Isabella kissed him back, parting her lips to give him access to her mouth. Edward removed the now empty goblet from her other hand and placed it on the table. She busied her free hand then by gripping at his wild mane.

After a while, their lip lock rendered her breathless, and she pulled back a little. "Mr. Masen…" she panted.

"Call me Edward, please," he sighed, licking his lips as he met her gaze.

"E-Edward," she stuttered his name as his hands snaked around her waist. "Edward…"

It felt strange to her to utter his name finally. She had been very used to his last name. She never considered calling him by his christened name, yet it felt oddly pleasurable on her lips.

Edward, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the sound of his name as she repeated it twice. He wanted to hear it again, and then some more. As her lips moved around the syllables of his name, a strange tingle shot through his body, filling him with deep satisfaction.

"Bella, say it again, say my name again," he urged her.

She giggled at his request, and even this sound sent a thrill down his spine. "Edward… Edward," she obliged him again and again.

He lifted her off his lap momentarily and then brought her down again in a swift move, placing her legs on either side of him.

Her giggles stopped abruptly as she grasped the change in her position. "Edward?" she repeated his name, this time as a question.

He didn't provide her with an answer; instead, he captured her lips again. She sighed in his mouth and wriggled her body to adjust to his frame. The motion caught him off guard as her hips connected with his, sending her heat straight to his manhood.

Edward hissed against her lips as her heated body warmed his cold one. His long suppressed desires suddenly broke free as he uttered a low groan of pleasure.

Isabella broke the kiss again as a familiar sensation filled her lower half with pleasure. Edward didn't stop; his lips moved lower and traced her jaw. She felt a strange mixture of fear and pleasure as he kissed her throat. The fear was instant, and it didn't make sense for her to be afraid of him suddenly, but she was.

His hands travelled along her sides and lifted her gown up slowly. She panicked at first, but then he grabbed her calves and dragged her closer still, and her mind faltered. Her body wanted to cave in to the pleasurable feelings he was invoking in her, but her mind remained rigid.

She felt his lips move further down, and as she followed him with her eyes, she realised that her gown was no longer covering her. She shivered and tensed in his arms for a brief moment, and he stilled.

Isabella felt uncertain with a distant alarm still ringing in the back of her mind.

Edward withdrew himself, and she looked back at him with half-lidded eyes. Keeping eye contact with her, he brought his hands to the heaving swells of her breasts. Her breathing stopped briefly as his hands caressed her through the sheer fabric of her camisole. A primal urge took over then, an urge to get closer to him, to join their bodies.

Isabella closed her eyes and gasped from the shocking pleasure that rippled through her body at his touch.

He moved back to her chest while his hands slipped to her sides. "Bella, oh Bella, what you do to me…" His voice sounded strained yet reverent.

"Edward… mmhhh!" she moaned softly as his mouth closed around her pebbled peak through her camisole. In an involuntary motion, her hips ground into him, and she gasped at the sensation it caused.

Edward removed his mouth from her bosom and cried out her name again. "Uh Bella!"

Isabella felt him shudder from head to toe, and it pleased her for some odd reason. She was about to repeat her action when she felt his fingers brush across her nether region. That froze her in place.

He stroked her womanly folds slowly and tenderly, and then she felt something slipping inside her—his finger. It brought with itself a pleasure unknown to her, a pleasure so extreme that her head fell back in ecstasy.

Isabella became completely incoherent as Edward's finger began to move inside her. She uttered strange sounds she didn't even realise she could with her mind focused entirely on one thing, the bliss induced by his touch.

Edward removed himself from her breasts, and she gazed back at him with shocked eyes. His dark, sizzling eyes brought more heat to her body than a glass full of cognac. They looked predatory, and a part of her felt afraid, yet it induced even more pleasure to her addled brain.

"Bella, so hot, so slick… for me?" he growled, sending the vibrations straight to her pleasure point.

"Mmhh Mr. Maassen—oh—Ed-Edward…" she moaned loudly and jerked against his hand. Her eyes closed on their own, and her mouth hung open.

She felt his finger move more quickly than before, and she moved her body in time with it. Edward grabbed her waist to pulled her closer while his mouth began sucking on her bosom again.

Everything suddenly felt hazy and slow to her as her body stiffened, and she felt as though she would explode with pleasure. The strange jolts of ecstasy rippled across her frame, jolting her from head to toe.

She could hear Edward's voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Her brain was too numb to comprehend anything, anything other than pleasure that coursed through her…

* * *

So all lurkers, please come out of your lurkdom and let me know how this chaper was, or else, Edward will catch you, because he can sense_ ze lurkerz_. :P

_**Come to the story thread for MS on the AU forum**_ - http://www [dot] twilighted [dot] net/forum/viewtopic [dot] php?f=33&t=5128

We have **_teasers_**... no cookies, cause Monsterward hates human food!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Meyer is the lucky woman here, I won nothing of Twilight. I just own this twisted plot. sigh...

**A/N:** Okay, first up, apologies for taking a while to update. I went through a life fail, in which my net was gone, along with other connections. Meh

Then, I thank my voters from the bottom of my heart. Even though I didn't win an Indie, I loved that people loved my story enough to vote for it. Also, I thank the person who nominated me for the Indies in the first place. Muaah!

Now, with **FAQs (because I've been a total FAIL at replying to reviews. My apologies again.)**

**-Pregnancy?**

No, Isabella's not getting knocked up in this fic.

**-Was Edward involved with Tanya at some point?**

Yes, but it was more like a one-night stand thing. He couldn't stand her thoughts. And yeah, it was his first time. He never got intimate with anyone else after that, because the thoughts he heard were too jarring.

**-Why is Edward rude towards his family?**

Simple, because he thought that they would stop him from pursuing Isabella. And he doesn't like their intrusion. I think I've conveyed this enough in my past chapters.

**-Will the Cullens come back in picture?**

Yes, they're not out of the picture at all.

* * *

"Beautiful…"

Edward stared at her in awe as she quivered in ecstasy, her body dancing to his finger's rhythms.

"Erotic…"

The feel of her silken love canal was too sinfully pleasurable to be heaven.

"I'd settle for hell," he mumbled incoherently as he saw Isabella reach the pinnacle of pleasure.

Her soft cries echoed off the walls of the hall. She clenched around his finger, shocking his senses with the flood of her hot essence. Her petite body went completely rigid in his arms as she threw her head back in wanton bliss.

"Bella, yes," Edward growled, panting heavily, "take the pleasure from me… you're so ravishing."

He raked his eyes across her body, from her lust-ridden face to the point where his finger disappeared into her. She looked enticing beyond comprehension. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest, Edward felt as though it would spring free any moment.

The thought of her beating heart prompted him to look at her pulse points. As if to grant him a better view of her jugular, Isabella slumped her head to one side, her eyes still closed.

Edward fixated on her exposed neck with the eyes of a hunter. Her blood flowed rapidly, hypnotising him with its natural draw.

He growled loudly, now in a hungry, predatory way. Thinking about her saccharine blood was a mistake. Edward struggled to contain his bloodlust as a sudden urge to sink his teeth into her translucent skin gripped him.

Just as he was about to claim her throat, Isabella opened her eyes and locked them with his.

There, in those warm brown irises, he saw his monstrous expression. His lips were curled back over his teeth, and his eyes were pitch black.

Isabella gasped, and he was sure that it was a gasp of fear.

_No!_ his mind screamed, _She must not see the monster! She must not know that I'm a predator!_

Her hands trembled against his chest while her eyes witnessed the hungry ones of Edward.

"M-Mr. M-Masen," her lips quivered as she whispered his name, "Ed-Edward?"

The sound of her voice subdued the monster and brought back the man. Hearing his name in Isabella's sweet, innocent voice sent jolts all over his body, enough to suppress his bloodthirsty side for the time being.

Edward closed his eyes and stopped breathing. He decided to concentrate on her sexual responses instead. He realised that his finger was still buried within her womanly folds, and he took his chance. Isabella had seen what he hadn't intended her to see, and now, her memory was to be meddled with.

As if getting a whiff of his plans, Isabella tried to wriggle out of his grasp. He held her in place with his other hand still around her waist.

"Edward?" she repeated his name in an alarmed voice, but he didn't listen. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers with a reverent expression. In her eyes he saw what he wanted to see—his own eyes changing back to amber.

His fingers slowly renewed their ministrations on her, and her voice got caught up in her throat.

"Yes, Bella, feel it, I want you to feel it," he purred seductively, and her response was instantaneous. She arched her back and whimpered against him.

"Ugh—Mr. Mase—Edward—what are you _doing_ to me?" she squeaked between her gasps of pleasure as Edward quickened his movements.

"I'm giving you pleasure, love," he replied cockily, feeling in control again.

"But—oh!" she moaned, "Pleeease! What is happening to me?" It seemed as though she was talking to herself then, and Edward found himself amused with her reactions. Her naïveté about her own body especially made him smile.

"Don't fight it, give in. You should enjoy it," he murmured in her ear, "You like it, don't you?"

"Mmhh, I don't know," she replied breathlessly as her hands fisted his nightshirt.

"You do know, sweet Bella," he brushed his lips over her kiss-swollen ones, "You're not admitting it yet."

Isabella closed her eyes and moaned into his mouth as the lust-filled bliss took over her body again. He kept moving his finger at an even pace until her quaking slowed down.

She collapsed against his chest, panting wildly as her frail human body tried to cope with the new sensations. He removed his hand from between her legs and inhaled her love nectar that now coated his fingers. It would seem foolish to think so, but he thought that it was even more potent than her blood. He lay back, pulling her against his chest, revelling in the scent of her essence.

Tentatively, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. She tasted heavenly, and he wanted more, but he was willing to wait. He wanted to take this intimacy slowly with Isabella, to adapt to her and learn to keep his vampiric hunger at bay. Even though it meant that he wouldn't get his share of pleasure yet, he was ready to give this small sacrifice for a much more pleasure-filled future.

Edward looked down at Isabella, observing her face as her breathing evened out. She had fallen into a slumber. He let her rest, for she needed it. This was her first sexual experience, and it must have drained her physical and emotional strength.

_Such a fragile little human_, he thought, still observing her face, _a beautiful fragile human…_

Carefully, so as to not jostle her, he framed her sleeping form in his arms and got up from the settee. He carried her to his room and laid her on his bed, tucking her under the quilts.

Edward observed each intake of breath, each rise and fall of her bosom, each sigh and quiver as she slept soundly for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Isabella shivered violently. Her vague dream of hugging a cold rock dissipated into darkness as her eyes slowly opened.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes furiously, but the darkness remained as it was. The only light that reached her eyes was the faint glow of the approaching morning, allowed in by the open window on the far side of the room.

As she tried to get her bearings, Isabella realised that it wasn't her room. Yet, the room felt distinctly familiar, she noted groggily.

Her lips parted involuntarily to let out a yawn. Her eyelids felt heavy with sleep, and her head seemed a little disoriented. Feeling parched, she reached for the glass of water that occupied the nightstand. After emptying the glass, she plopped back into the colossal bed and pulled the covers up to her neck to keep herself warm.

The sweet smell of vanilla and honey filled her senses. It was one of the most pleasant smells she had ever inhaled, yet it made her stomach knot in a strange way. Edward's scent permeated all the layers of covers, the quilt, and even her clothes. Isabella lightly traced the thin layer of clothing that covered her. She was wearing only a camisole.

"Where's my nightgown?" she mumbled in her limbo.

Instantly, the memory of her discarded nightgown returned to her, lying on the floor of the grand hall, beside the settee where she and Edward…

Her body tingled in a strange way, especially between her legs. She gasped and covered her mouth in disbelief, but she didn't get enough time to reflect on the missing nightgown and the following events.

The bathroom door opened, and in came Edward.

Isabella squeezed her eyes shut and as if possible, tried to sink further into the bed. She heard him moving around the bed and decided to feign sleep. She felt too embarrassed to face him. As if on cue, her cheeks grew hot. She tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths, but Edward's scent only accentuated her discomposure around him.

Edward smiled to himself as he heard the flip-flop of Isabella's heartbeat. Very stealthily, he moved to her side and pulled her quilt back slightly. Her breathing hitched, and he bit back a chuckle. She was trying to fake sleep. He didn't know the motivations behind her actions, but it amused him no end to see her composure fall apart.

He knew that he would have caught her act even if he had been a human. The thought made him wistful, and he considered the numerous possibilities with such a scenario. Foremost of them was—he wouldn't have to _pretend_ to be normal, to be human, to have the pleasure of her company. In addition to that, there would be no threat to her life, and he wouldn't have to hide in the shadows while she enjoyed the sun.

Edward exhaled heavily, feeling a little disquieted with his own thoughts.

A jagged breath from Isabella halted his musings. He noticed that she was shivering. He quickly closed the window that he had left open while climbing back into his room, returning from a quick hunt.

Edward shook his head wryly, thinking about how many times he would have to hunt after he became intimate with Isabella. This would be a nuisance since he never required hunting within such short intervals. It wasn't a want, it was a necessity, considering his maddening thirst for her blood.

Isabella shifted under the covers as he returned to her side. She was beginning to get restless.

Since it was already morning and she had had a good night's sleep, he decided to tease her a bit. He slipped beneath the covers and scooted close to her. His body was still warm from the hot bath he'd just had, and he felt relieved for that.

He began tracing lazy patterns on her arm, relishing the satiny feel of it. The resultant goose pimples on Isabella's skin made him chuckle lightly. He was glad that at least her bodily responses weren't hidden from him like her thoughts.

Edward brought his hand to her neck and lightly grazed her creamy skin. She took in an unsteady breath, and he felt her whole body quiver. Through her sheer camisole, he could see the tiny peaks rising slowly from the swells of her breasts. He fought the urge to slide his hands inside her camisole and claim her bare, warm skin.

Instead, he moved his face closer to hers and brushed his lips lightly over hers. Her lips parted as she exhaled a lungful of her sweet breath. His lips twitched over hers as he heard her poor heart overexert itself again.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and whispered in her ear, "Good morning, love."

Her eyes fluttered open, her lashes brushing across his cheek. He enjoyed their soft caress immensely.

"I hope you slept well?" he asked, capturing her lobe between his lips, tasting her skin with his tongue.

He felt her body stiffen at the gesture, so he moved down to kiss her cheek softly. Laying a claim on her by force was not an option; Edward wanted to conquer her bit by bit, as gently as possible.

His hand rubbed her neck and collarbone in small circles, and he felt her taut muscles relax a bit.

"You didn't answer my question," he reminded her as he moved back and lay on his side, facing her.

"I… this is your room," she mumbled timidly, stealing a glance at him but not meeting his eyes.

"Yes, it is. So?"

"I don't even remember when I fell asleep," she admitted, her voice turning into a whisper.

"I remember," he answered smugly, admiring the deepening blush on her cheeks.

Isabella's eyes flickered to his face, a myriad of emotions playing in them. He gave her a lopsided smile in return and brought his hand to hers, lacing her fingers with his.

"Last night," she hesitated, her eyes drifting downward, "Wh-what did you do to me?"

"I gave you pleasure," he replied, planting a kiss on her hand. He observed her closely for any signs of fear, wondering if she remembered his momentary lapse in control.

Isabella seemed confused; and Edward was relieved for that. He moved closer to her and nudged her on her back as he locked his lips with hers. She surprised him by kissing him back, and he deepened the kiss, brushing his cool tongue with hers, keeping his teeth in check. Edward was elated with her response. He wanted her to desire him as much as he desired her.

His hands slipped beneath her camisole, caressing her abdomen before finally settling on top of her breasts. Their softness was more wonderful than he had imagined; a low purr escaped his lips as he caressed them.

Isabella froze, which he had anticipated, but he didn't cease. His thumbs rubbed across her taut nipples in small, deliberate circles. Her back arched a little in response, and Edward was immediately rewarded with the heady scent of her arousal.

Isabella whimpered against his mouth, her eyes fluttering and rolling back.

Edward pulled away to let her catch her breath, admiring the simple human action with awestruck eyes. He lavished her collarbone with kisses while his hand traced below her abdomen and cupped her between the legs. He was glad that he had removed her drawers last night; it meant fewer hindrances along the way.

"Mr. Masen!" she squeaked suddenly, her eyes meeting his in a heated gaze.

"Edward," he reminded her, feeling his breathing escalate along with hers.

He pushed a finger into her gently and very slowly, knowing full well that she was more aware of his actions in this moment, as compared to last night. Slick with her essence, her folds parted easily, granting him ingress.

Her eyes fluttered close, and her lips quivered. She grabbed his shoulder with one hand while the other fisted the covers beside her. The heat from her body intensified, enveloping Edward. He bit back a groan of pleasure, not wanting to startle her.

"Bella," he murmured into her ear as his finger began moving inside her, "don't panic, love. It's normal to feel pleasure."

She whimpered heavily at his words, and the scent of her arousal thickened in the air around him. He smirked at her response.

Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but nothing came out except heavy exhalations.

"Enjoy the sensations," he continued to murmur into her ear. "I want you to enjoy it."

"I don't understand," she spoke finally, her voice strained.

She opened her eyes and tried to focus on his face. Her expression held a strange mixture of fear and desire.

"It's as old as Adam and Eve." He dipped his head to taste her mouth again. "Be my Eve," he whispered on her lips.

He felt her legs spread beneath him to grant him more access, and his lips formed a triumphant smile. He sucked on her lower lip while inserting another finger into her heat. Her body began to move slightly, and he noticed that she was trying to match the rhythm of his fingers.

Isabella was opening up, and he was happy for melting her. She was right where he wanted her. He pressed the heel of his hand between her legs and was rewarded with a gasp from her.

Leaving her lips, he moved his mouth along her breasts, eliciting more pleasurable noises from her mouth.

"E-Edward, what's happening?" she asked frantically, panic rising in her voice again as she tightened around his fingers.

"It's the peak of your pleasure, don't fear it," he assured her, his own voice heavy with lust.

With a cry of pleasure, Isabella fell apart beneath him, her eyes unfocussed and her lips parted. He caressed her heat until her quivering muscles relaxed.

Her eyes closed shut again as she caught her breath. Edward moved back and took the opportunity to suck the ambrosia that coated his fingers.

As he appraised her half-naked form, Edward debated in his mind whether to wait or to take her right away. She was under the influence of lust, and he knew that she wouldn't deny him.

Suddenly, her stomach voiced the sound of hunger—a low rumble in her abdomen. Isabella opened her eyes and looked at him sheepishly as her hands came up to rub her stomach.

She was a frail human, and for her to satisfy his needs, she needed her vitality. She needed the nourishment.

"Time for breakfast," he told her as he got off the bed. "Get ready while I get the breakfast arranged."

Isabella nodded meekly and slipped away to her room without a word.

As he got dressed for the day, Edward couldn't help but think about relieving himself of the pressure that had built in his manhood. It was almost painful, akin to being starved for months. He knew he needed release, but he was stubborn. He was not going to impose himself on Isabella.

Edward wanted to have not just one, but many nights, or days of pleasure. It was apropos to working on finding a treasure; the victory was sweetest when achieved with some effort.

Besides, he didn't want to be like the men he often used to hunt, like Rosalie's fiancé, the man who had brutally forced himself upon her.

The sound of a loud crack resonated inside the room, and Edward realised that he cracked his wardrobe door by gripping it too tightly. Rosalie's memories were too lucid, and Edward couldn't control his responses.

His arousal instantly died, and he took comfort in that. It was the only good thing that happened upon remembering Rosalie's plight.

He closed the wardrobe gingerly, so as not to cause more damage to it, and then left his room promptly.

Downstairs, the mansion staff was beginning their day with their usual chores. Edward fired his commands at the kitchen staff, telling them to make breakfast for Isabella as quickly as possible. He wondered if his actions had worn her out, so he wanted to get her fed as soon as possible.

From the kitchen, he made way to his study, his personal sanctuary, to hide until the breakfast was served and eaten.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Isabella stumbled around in her room, trying her best to get ready as quickly as possible. Her stomach burned with hunger, and her limbs swayed about as though she had lost her command over them.

Everything seemed amiss, and it threw her off balance.

Her mind drifted back to Edward and his hands, his hands that touched her and ignited a strange desire in her.

The dressing table rattled as she banged her palms on top of it, her breaths coming out in heavy pants. Edward did this to her, and she couldn't deny the pleasure she felt at his touch.

Isabella looked at her reflection in the mirror, seeing her deepening blush. She shook her head and took a deep breath, attempting to purge the feeling of a thousand pleasurable tingles in her body.

One of the attendants came to her room and informed her that breakfast was ready.

With a heavy sigh, Isabella lifted herself from the dressing stool and followed the attendant to the dining room.

"Where's Mr. Masen?" she asked the attendant after she noted Edward's absence.

"He's in his study," the attendant replied nervously, "he eats his breakfast there only."

Isabella's brows knotted in confusion, but she didn't ask any further. She had a distinct feeling that it would bring wrath for the attendant.

The attendant then left promptly, looking like a frightened mouse.

Isabella didn't understand this oddity in Edward's nature but decided to eat her breakfast alone. She told herself that it must be a habit of him to eat his food at his workplace, and it would take time to change it.

After having her breakfast, Isabella started for Edward's study, but her approach was halted midway as she spotted Edward on the foyer only. He seemed tense, and Isabella began worrying about the change in his mood.

Then, as his face turned towards her, his features relaxed and turned into a breathtaking smile. Isabella felt dazed under its effect.

He strode towards her and quickly cleared the distance between them.

"Bella, I need to head out immediately," he said, drawing her closer by her waist. "There has been strife between some labourers near Lake Everett. I'll have to handle that myself."

"But—"

He didn't give her any time to respond, cutting her off by planting a quick kiss on her lips. "I'll see you at dinnertime. Goodbye, love."

Edward strode away in haste, leaving Isabella in the foyer, feeling confused and worried for her husband.

As she headed towards the grand hall, she tried to think of a way to alleviate Edward's tense mood when he returned.

Her mother had once told her that food soothed the soul, so she opted to make a lavish full course dinner for Edward. She was confident in her culinary skills, and it brought a smile to her face.

Summoning a maidservant, she quickly asked for a tour of the kitchen and began her work immediately.

* * *

"How was your day?" Isabella asked Edward upon his return, holding on to the bedpost nervously.

"Good." He gave her half a smile.

"I hope that issue of labourers' strife is resolved?"

Edward nodded as he shook out of his waistcoat.

Isabella bit her lip and broached the subject of dinner. "I'm glad that you arrived just in time for dinner," she said, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Dinner?" he asked, and she saw him freeze in his tracks, as though it had shocked him. She had hoped to surprise him pleasantly, but his reaction told her otherwise.

"I-I know that I don't need to cook," she tried to make her sentiments known, "I wanted to… for you."

His face looked too serene suddenly, as though he was wearing a mask. She immediately regretted her decision to make dinner for him, for it seemed as though it didn't please him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shock you like this." Feeling extremely foolish, Isabella quickly made for the door.

Edward grabbed her arm and stopped her. He tipped her head up by her chin and gazed into her eyes, a smile forming on his lips.

He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

"You don't need to trouble yourself, Bella," he said softly, "But I really appreciate your effort. So, let's go downstairs. I'm hungry."

Isabella looked wary of his words, but she couldn't contain the smile that flashed across her face. At last, she was happy to do something for him.

Edward almost shuddered at the thought of eating human food. He had to do it on his wedding day since everyone was watching, but he didn't know he'd have to repeat it again so soon. Isabella had put her heart in it, he could see it on her face, and he didn't want to disappoint her. He wanted to play the good husband, for it would keep Isabella satisfied. Her contentment was crucial for his aspirations.

He linked his arm with hers and descended the stairs, his mind running through all the minds inside the mansion. He was curious to know what she had made for dinner.

By the time they reached the dining room, Edward was contemplating pretending sickness or simply bolting from the house. Isabella hadn't made a measly meal, she had made a full course meal, including appetizers and dessert.

It was going to be a torture for him to eat everything, but he had no other option but to gobble up all the food. Isabella would not be happy if he tried to hedge, and it would in turn make his night barren.

Hence, with a heavily drawn breath, he braced himself for his vampiric martyrdom on human food.

"Oysters," Isabella mumbled, pushing a dish full of raw oysters towards him after they got seated. Edward groaned internally; the oysters smelt awful.

He picked up the oyster gingerly, holding his breath. With one swift move, the oyster was in his mouth and down his throat. The lingering pungent taste in his mouth was making him gag, but he kept a straight face for Isabella's sake.

Edward tackled the rest of the oysters in haste, so that he could get rid of them quickly. Yet, the actual source of his anxiety wasn't the oysters, it was the main course.

Roasted mutton and stewed rabbits followed the oysters. They were even more nausea inducing than the oysters. He stared pointedly at the meat, as though it would jump up from the platter and attack him. So instead of letting the meat pounce on him, he attacked it.

Edward stuffed the food in his mouth and tried to swallow it as swiftly as possible. He briefly wondered if he looked like a savage ape.

"You haven't even touched your wine," Isabella commented from across the table.

He nodded silently and gulped down the wine, almost spewing it out in the next second as his body rejected it.

After dumping the rabbits and mutton in his non-functioning stomach, he waited for the dessert, rather impatiently.

"So," Isabella began, fiddling with the tablecloth, "How was it?" Her cheeks were already rosy pink, the shade getting darker.

Her blush accentuated the scent of her blood. Inhaling it brought some relief to Edward's senses, even though it scorched his throat.

He smiled at her and complimented her cooking. "The food was wonderful, Bella, just like you." _You're much better than the food, though_, he thought to himself, appraising her flushed skin.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly, "I have made bakewell pudding for dessert."

She offered a healthy helping of pudding to him, her eyes brimming with satisfaction. Edward was glad that he managed to fool her.

With a heavy sigh, he dug into the pudding. He would have to purge all the obnoxious food later, much later…

* * *

Isabella was perched on the edge of her bed, running a comb through her hair absent-mindedly. A part of her was happy, for she was now playing out her part as a wife rather nicely. Edward seemed satisfied, and that satisfied her in turn.

They had dropped the supper again today because of the plentiful dinner. Edward had complained of overeating, citing her 'splendid' cooking as the culprit. He had praised her cooking, and his compliments were still making her blush.

Yet, there was a part of her that felt unsettled. She sometimes thought that she was hallucinating, with Edward's eyes changing colours in tandem with his oscillating moods. She was afraid to inquire about it.

She got up hastily and padded to her dressing table to place her comb back.

Suddenly, she felt the hard contours of Edward's body pressing against her from behind. A flustered gasp escaped her lips as he grabbed her waist and drew her closer.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful your silky hair is?" he spoke in her ear, planting a kiss just below the lobe. She shivered at the contact.

"Or perhaps, I should say everything about you is beautiful." He nuzzled her neck, breathing heavily into her skin.

"Thank you…" she exhaled softly, feeling a bit lightheaded which she blamed on the wine.

"Don't thank me for stating the truth, love," Edward murmured and then surprised her by lofting her into his arms.

She squeaked and gripped his neck with her hands as he carried her to his room.

He all but threw her on the bed and began unbuttoning her nightdress. "Get rid of this," he said in a rough voice, "I want to see you."

Isabella's whole body shook with anxiety and anticipation; she didn't know what lay ahead. Her tiny hands tried to assist Edward with her gown, but he was far more proficient with the task.

After throwing her nightdress off her shoulders, Edward claimed her lips. She wound her fingers in his hair and noticed that they were damp. He had taken a bath again; and she noted that his body felt warmer than usual.

She then felt a gentle tug on her lower half and noticed him removing her drawers. Her violent shaking increased, even though she tried to calm herself. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she trusted Edward in what he was doing. He appeared to know.

Edward's tongue gently slipped inside her mouth and caressed hers while his hands pulled her camisole up and cupped her bare bosom. She uttered a strange keening sound as his thumbs massaged her peaks; she never thought she could make such noises.

Edward detached his mouth from hers and trailed towards the curve of her breasts. He pried her hands from his hair and moved them beside her head. She tried to move them back, but he kept her wrists locked in his vice-like grip.

He buried his head in the valley between her breasts and inhaled slowly. The edges of his wayward hair tickled her skin and she began squirming.

"Edward," she rasped breathlessly, "it's tickling…"

She felt his lips curve into a smirk. "Really? How much?"

"Edward!" she protested and then tried to wrench her hands free. "Pleease! Let me—"

Her words got garbled in her throat as she felt his cool tongue roll over her pebbled nipple. He made circles around it, licking her tightened flesh repeatedly before closing his lips around it.

Her whole body convulsed as the sweet sensations coursed through her. It was extremely overwhelming.

"Stop jerking," he ordered suddenly, his lips brushing her skin ever so lightly.

"_You're_ doing this to me!" she spoke up, finally finding her voice again, "I don't even know what's happening!"

Her own voice sounded so hoarse and strange to her ears; she blamed Edward for that as well.

She heard him chuckle, and that made her resume her struggles beneath him.

"I meant it when I told you stop these sudden movements, Bella," his voice sounded more threatening now, and she immediately stilled in his grasp.

He made a gruff noise of approval and then proceeded to wrap lips around her stiffened peak again.

Isabella clenched her empty fists and shook her head from one side to another to stop herself from shaking. The bliss inducing sensations were making her mind hazy, and she thought that she might faint.

"Breathe, Bella," Edward said, raising his head from her bosom, "I didn't tell you to stop breathing."

Isabella drew in a shaky breath and looked him in the eye. He was smiling at her in a way that could only be described as evil. And his dark eyes only added to the evil smirk.

Edward let go of her hands and pulled her up into a sitting position. In one short movement, he tugged the camisole over her head and threw it beside the bedpost.

Feeling extremely awkward, Isabella lowered her head and let her hair hide her. She knew he had seen enough, but still, the thought of being completely exposed to him made her jittery. She cowered away towards the ornate headboard, watching his every move.

Edward stepped off the bed and began removing his nightshirt. Isabella's eyes wandered across his sculpted frame as his shirt joined her camisole on the floor. The rest of his clothes followed suit, and soon, Isabella found herself appraising Edward in all his unclothed glory.

She realised that her jaw was hanging open at the sight in front of her and promptly corrected herself. Edward looked like a chiseled masterpiece, as though all the greats had come together to create him.

Isabella just stared and stared, awestruck. Although she had never seen an undressed man before, she was convinced that no one could come close to Edward's perfection.

Seeing that this rendition of perfection wanted her ignited a raw passion inside Isabella.

She desired for him to want her.

Edward crawled back into the bed and gestured for her to come forward. She made no move to comply, too stunned with her own thoughts.

"Come here," he called in a seductive voice, "I haven't got an eternity to wait for you."

He bestowed upon her his typical lopsided smile and gently gripped her ankle. Isabella yelped in surprise as he pulled her beneath him in one move.

His lips found hers again and all her thoughts melted away, giving way to sensations. She felt Edward everywhere; caressing her, gripping her, pulling her closer, flush against him.

His fingers found ingress to her love canal, and she sighed in pleasure, this time giving in and embracing it with fervour. His lips only accentuated the feeling with flurries of kisses all over her skin. Her back arched into his touch while her head pressed into the bed.

It was overwhelming, and even though she knew what was coming, the sweetness of the blissful sensation didn't wane. The room echoed with the sounds of her own making, her lips parted to let out the cries of pleasure.

The ebb and flow of sheer ecstasy hadn't even faded when she felt something else against her womanly folds. It wasn't his finger, it was much thicker.

She tried to look down, but Edward's head obstructed her vision. His face was nuzzled in her neck, and she could hear his heavy breathing. Her hands found solace in his hair again as she felt the pleasurable tingles anew.

His hands traced all her curves before flattening against her thighs, pushing them apart slowly. Edward lifted his head from her neck and heaved himself up. He towered above her, and she felt intimidated by his dark eyes.

He pushed his lower half against her, parting her legs further to settle between them snugly. This time, she could see the hardness that was nudging against her heat.

Edward leaned forward, driving himself into her slowly. Isabella gasped as she felt herself being stretched. It was uncomfortable but pleasurable still.

_It won't be very pleasant, dear, but it gets better as time passes…_

Her mother's words suddenly sprung forward in her head, reminding her of the advice she had given her once, just before her seventeenth birthday. Isabella hadn't paid much attention to it at that time, but now, it seemed as though her mother had given her a fair warning.

Edward thrust again, and Isabella felt a sting of pain between her legs. Her breathing was becoming laboured, and it felt as though she wouldn't be able to accommodate him.

"Edward…" she whimpered, "it's hurting."

She looked up in his eyes and found them as dark as a moonless night. His face was a mask of concentration, and she feared to break it. She heard him mutter something to himself, but it was too low for her ears.

He then thrust forward, more forcefully than before.

Isabella's mouth opened to let out a scream, but nothing came out. Silent heaving was all she could manage as the pain seared through her.

Tears flowed from her eyes and clouded her vision as she tried to push Edward away. He didn't budge one inch; he was like stone, unmoving. His expression didn't soothe her either; it looked like a sneer, with his teeth bared to her. She blinked her eyes rapidly to clear her vision, and the clearer she saw, the more frightened she became.

Edward began growling then, the vibrations shaking her up and increasing the pain. Her body tensed and another whimper escaped her lips, drawing his name out in a desperate plea.

Suddenly, Edward closed his eyes and stilled entirely. The muscles on his neck looked strained, as though he was reining himself in. Complete silence followed. For a while, the only sound inside the room came from Isabella's wheezing and crying.

"Edward, I'm hurting!" She clawed at his chest, gaining no purchase on the smooth skin. "Please release me!"

Then, without warning, Edward removed himself from her and lunged back towards the window.

Disoriented, Isabella pulled herself to the edge of the bed, feeling the ache between her legs pulsate. She looked down and saw blood smeared across the sheets, seeping straight from her nether region. The blood shocked her, and she suddenly felt nauseous.

"I'm bleeding," she whispered and then looked at Edward.

Standing at the open window, he glared at her with such animosity that she felt a shudder go down her spine.

"Go to your room, immediately!" he barked at her.

She cringed but got up from the bed to collect her clothes. Her legs gave out, and she wobbled unsteadily, just managing to catch the bedpost to steady herself. Her whole body ached, and she didn't understand any of it. Tears flowed freely from her eyes now as she attempted to gain her bearings.

Edward saw her struggling and took a reflexive step towards her, but then he stopped himself instantly. The smell of her blood was too potent in that moment, too powerful. He couldn't help her in this state, when he was the greatest danger to her.

The open window helped a lot. As the night breeze drifted inside the room, Edward just about managed to keep a hold on his predatory tendencies. The fresh air diluted the strong scent of Isabella's blood, and thus, kept Edward from going deranged.

Isabella wrapped a bedsheet around herself and finally managed to pick up her clothes. As she hobbled towards the door, Edward fought every muscle inside his body to stop himself from lunging at her.

She was a prey, a prey that was slipping away.

"Bella," he called her just as she reached for the door. She looked back at him, her eyes wary and afraid.

"Take a warm bath, clean yourself," he managed to mumble and then waved her away.

He could hear her tiny, unsteady steps as she made for her room, and the sound coaxed him to follow her, to chase her down.

_An injured prey… easy prey…_

He shook his head and took a huge gulp of air from the window, in hope of clearing his thirst-fogged brain. It did help.

But then he saw the tiny drops of blood on the floor, her blood, the sweetest blood ever. It called to him, even when it was far colder on the floor for his liking. He leaned towards the floor, his eyes fixated on the blood.

Edward knew exactly what would follow if he dared to taste the ambrosia that lay on the floor. He would want more, and there was only one source that could give him more—Isabella.

Isabella would die, and Edward would lose his chance with her…

* * *

_***Ducks for cover***_

_**Don't hate me! I'll update soon, I promise!**_

_**Review if you liked it, review if you wanna kill me for the cliffy again, review if just want to rant away. But please, don't stop reviewing. They make my day. And even though I'm in a rut these days, they make me so giddy! So gimme some review lurve!**_

_**Come to the story thread for MS on the AU forum**_ _**(I post teasers there) **_- http://www [dot] twilighted [dot] net/forum/viewtopic [dot] php?f=33&t=5128


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**: I don't own twilight or any of its characters. If I did, I'd have made it a little darker. But damn that SM owns them. :P

**A/N**_**: First up, please be patient my dear readers. I try my best to update this story as soon as possible, but sometimes my luck fails me. Like this time, when my Word crashed. I totes don't intend to abandon this story, so get that fear right outa your mind. And no, I won't pull it either (unless some gigantic fail like real life people discovering it occurs.)**_

_**So, I guess we're all cleared up on these issues.**_

_**Now, let me tell you a few things. First, Lake Crescent was known as Lake Everett in those times, so no, I didn't dif another lake around Forks.**_

_**Second, please read Jasper's Yorkshire ascent correctly. He doesn't utter the phonetic of 'H,' so wherever H is missing, please do your own additions.**_

_**Third, some of you wondered why Edward didn't know she'll bleed or why he wasn't nice to her. He has been a vamp for almost a century, and he doesn't interact much with humans, let alone listening to sexing thoughts of virgins. (Haha) And he wasn't nice to her, because he didn't know how to stop himself from chomping her up.**_

_**And now, I'd just use one sentence to thank my PTB betas for their awesome work. You rock!**_

* * *

Edward closed his eyes and tried to distract his mind from the blood that lay in front of him. He thought of the horrible experience he had eating dinner only an hour ago. He thought of the times when the human blood he drank smelled of stale bread and rotten cheese, often laced with foul smelling intoxicants.

A few minutes into his meditation, he felt a little better. His throat still felt parched and burnt, but he willed himself to stand the pain, to be strong enough to hold the bloodthirsty monster in.

The monster tried to break free, it even tried to persuade him to chase the source of the sweetest blood ever. He could actually hear it whispering in his ear.

_Take it, it's yours for the taking. It's the sweetest dessert. You can find intimacy somewhere else; perhaps there'd be more silent minds out there for you. But nothing would compare to this delicacy…_

His mind drifted to the sound of Isabella's movements inside her bathroom. She was taking a bath, washing herself, washing away the sweet wine of her blood. It was going to waste…

"No…" Edward uttered a tortured cry and covered his ears. He was on the verge of breaking.

Then, in a flash, he was out of the room and into the coppice of green that surrounded the manor.

He ran… to get as far away from the smell of Isabella's blood as possible. He couldn't.

Upon reaching the banks of Lake Everett, he broke down and collapsed on his knees, his hands frantically threading through his hair.

He could see it happening in his mind's eye—he would cage her in his grasp and then suck the life out of her slowly, savouring the rich taste on his tongue. She would struggle and cry out, but he wouldn't listen.

And then he saw her going limp in his embrace, pallid and lifeless. Her warm brown eyes turned glassy, still staring ahead with a look of horror frozen forever on her face.

Edward shook his head wildly and tried to get rid of the unsettlingly lucid vision. Yet, it remained in his head, repeating itself over and over.

"No!" he roared in rage, "I won't let it happen! I won't kill her!"

The vision suddenly disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a new one. This time, Isabella was alive. Her cheeks were stained with a rosy blush, her brown eyes sparkling with an unknown emotion as she stared back at him.

He engraved this new vision in his mind, to refer back to it whenever he felt his control slipping.

Then all the visions suddenly vanished from his head, replaced by the very relieved voice of his sister, Alice.

_That's better, Edward, much better…_

Edward's eyes bulged in disbelief at first, but then he sighed in relief and slight indignation. "Of course, Alice, you would know…" he said in a shaky voice, still feeling unsettled from seeing the visions the future.

Jasper wasn't far behind. _Edward! Bloody 'ell tell me what's the matter? Because the antics of your sister are driving me nuts!_

Their thoughts were getting clearer; they were close. Edward could hear them interacting as well.

"Jasper, I'm going to the manor," she told him quickly as she made a detour from the path of the lake.

"Wait, Ally!" Jasper growled behind her, "Why? You said 'e is at the lake!"

"Yes!" she replied, still running at her best speed, "But he needs clothes!"

"_Clothes_?" he yelled in exasperation and shock, "Edward's running around _without_ clothes?" His mind conjured up a few scenarios for his humour, which thoroughly embarrassed Edward.

"Just go to him, he needs you!" With that, Alice's voice faded away.

Edward didn't like hearing of himself as the needy one as suggested by Alice. Needy was the last thing he had ever been. He considered if Isabella was making him weak.

He heard Jasper bursting onto the lakefront a few feet away from him.

Jasper had no trouble spotting him. Edward could see himself in his brother's mind, sitting on his knees, looking forlorn and resigned—a picture of pity.

Edward abhorred that view of himself. He resented pity with the utmost passion.

"Bloody 'ell, Edward!" Jasper exclaimed as he approached him with caution. "Why the anger? Why the resentment? But first, what 'appened?"

Slowly, a hazy calm grew upon him, and he relaxed. It was a welcome feeling after the deranging bloodlust and the resultant repression of it.

Edward raised his head and stared at him blankly, unsure as to how to explain.

"Oh…" Jasper whispered as he came to sit beside him. _I smell 'er …'er blood on you…. Did you….?_

Edward shook his head and pulled in a heavy breath. "No, we…" he muttered a little irately, "we were—"

"Intimate," Jasper concluded finally, reading Edward's hesitancy. "I should 'ave known this, seeing you like this, in your naked glory." _And I think I smell 'er as well now. Not as strong as the blood, but I can smell 'er on you._

Edward vaguely nodded in acknowledgement as Jasper's observation brought a twinge of bloodlust back. Isabella's blood still clung to him, still smelling very sweet. He knew why he couldn't run away from it, he was bathed in her essence.

"You need to wash yourself, get rid of the blood…" Jasper sighed and shook his head in amusement. _Looks like someone nearly castrated you…_

Edward growled at him, shaking off the calm that Jasper had imposed on him.

"At least for my sake, take a dip, brother," Jasper pleaded. He had weak control over his own bloodlust, and exposure to fresh human blood was his undoing.

_The only thing that's keeping me off that blood is the fact that it's coating your… uhh…_

Without another word, Edward plunged into the dark waters of the lake.

* * *

The manor was ghoulishly silent except for the mellow trickling of bath water. Isabella was cleaning herself.

Alice felt like reaching out to her and helping her in some way. She knew that she couldn't.

Her sudden arrival would raise suspicions.

Alice decided to wait for the sun to rise. It would also serve to buy her time to think of an excuse for her surprise visit.

She crept inside Isabella's room, silent as a ghost. Isabella was still inside the bathroom, going through the motions of a painful bath.

Alice could smell it still; Isabella's blood-laden scent permeated the entire room, the whole manor even. It was a potent smell of lavender and strawberries and freesia. Alice's eyes darkened as the scent assaulted her senses.

She retreated from the room when she heard Isabella approaching.

A quick glance into the future reassured her that Isabella would be all right, while not perfectly in good condition, but much less hurt than she had anticipated. There would bruises, and the unavoidable sting between the legs, but other than that, everything would be fine.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alice turned towards her brother's room, the room that reeked of Isabella's blood. As she stepped inside, her eyes became pitch black from the natural draw of human blood.

She stopped breathing and began with the cleaning task immediately. First, the floor was cleaned, then the bed linens were changed. When she was satisfied that the scent of blood was reduced to a bare minimum, she headed for Edward's wardrobe.

In a minute, Isabella would be collapsing on her bed and falling asleep almost instantaneously. Alice welcomed that. The humans were weak creatures, and Isabella needed her rest for her recovery's sake.

The way to the lake was made in silent contemplation. Isabella's blood was sweet, yes, but it didn't make Alice feel reckless or unstable. She felt perfectly in control, barring the natural darkening of her irises, which couldn't be helped. There was no maddening bloodlust.

Recalling the vision of Edward's loss of control, Alice became more and more confused. He was known for his control—next only to Carlisle. He had often been near human blood, and not a single time did he appear to be lost to bloodlust.

"Then why now?" Alice asked to herself, but the answer to the question seemed elusive.

She threw the clothes at Jasper as soon as she broke on to the lakefront.

"Oof!" Jasper cried, securing the clothes in his hands, "Why so cantankerous, Ally?"

"Bloody ask your brother," she hissed, seeing Edward's pale form emerging from the lake waters behind Jasper, "…if you still haven't."

Alice turned away from the lake to let Edward get dressed.

"What happened now?" Jasper sounded confused again.

"Bella is bruised, and he nearly bit her!" Alice screeched angrily, "He nearly killed her, Jasper, that is what happened! That is why I came here."

Jasper shook his head and chuckled lightly. "It 'appens; 'e isn't an incarnation of perfection. 'e isn't Carlisle."

Edward growled at that quip, and Alice glared at him. "Of course, he isn't Carlisle," she muttered angrily, her words laden with heavy insinuation.

_You and I are going to have a long conversation about this, Edward,_ she told him mentally, _I think you owe me an explanation, and I think you know why._

Edward's shoulders slumped slightly, and she saw something close to reluctance in his eyes. It only fuelled her suspicions.

Jasper darted his eyes between Edward and her, clearly not happy with the internal conversation. "Do tell me?" he asked with a hint of irritation.

"Jasper, we're not going back to the manor for a while," Alice announced, keeping her eyes steady on Edward, who was looking more and more uncomfortable as the moments passed. "I believe Edward has some explanations up his sleeve."

"For what?"

"Let's walk," she suggested, hoping that the human activity of a relaxing walk in the woods would calm Edward.

"Bella…?" Edward whispered, his voice full of contrition.

Alice knew what he meant. "She's alright… sleeping right now. She'll be fine. And I will know if she is waking up in the middle of the night." She deliberately suppressed the memory of her recent short trip to the manor.

"Will anyone tell me why we're 'aving this little walk about the bush?" Jasper waved between Alice and Edward, looking thoroughly exasperated.

"Edward has a confession to make." Alice looked accusingly at her brother, waiting for a response.

"What be that confession, Edward?" Jasper asked with faux civility.

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate, Alice," Edward tried to prevaricate, but Alice knew him all too well.

"Where did your phenomenal control go, Edward? _You_ were the one that helped Carlisle with Rosalie; _you_ were the one that helped him in his medical endeavours on many occasions!"

Edward grimaced but remained silent.

"Ally, I told you—" Jasper tried to interject again, but Edward raised his hand and stopped him.

"I lost control, I just forgot that…" Edward looked ill at ease, talking about his intimacy in such a casual manner.

"You didn't remember that human women bleed the first time," Alice completed his sentence.

Jasper gaped at her, while Edward stiffened.

She glared at both of them. "I don't care if it's unladylike to talk about physical intimacy so freely, but someone has to bell the cat," she said, dismissing their appalled expressions with a wave of her hand.

"Yes," Edward said dejectedly, pulling at his hair, "I didn't remember… and it caught me off guard."

Alice felt the calming emotion emanating from her husband. She looked at him questioningly.

"Edward 'ere is on the verge of pulling his hair out," he replied with an amused smile and then turned towards Edward. "Your emotions are like a loose wild 'orse, brother, put a rein on them."

"I won't repeat it, Alice, I don't want to kill her. I do want to make her happy, I'm not _that_ selfish. I'm ready to play the good husband, I'm ready to eat human food everyday," Edward babbled, looking more remorseful and desperate than ever.

"'uman food everyday, eh? That's a real sacrifice!" Jasper commented with a look of disgust. That made Alice giggle.

Edward glowered at both of them. "You think it's bloody humorous? I ate oysters, stewed rabbits and roasted mutton for her sake, you fools!"

His ranting and raving ceased as another surge of Jasper's calm surrounded them.

"I know," Alice nodded, "I even saw you running away from the dining table, but then the vision changed and you stayed."

"I won't hurt her," he whispered, leaning against a tree, "I know how to stop myself now, I know how to control myself."

Jasper sighed and leapt on a humongous rock, happily perching atop it. He beckoned Alice to join him, and she complied.

"Be very careful, Edward," Alice warned as she hopped up and sat beside her husband. "Humans are fragile"

"Wouldn't I know that?" Edward shook his head in dismay.

"Change her then," she suggested as Jasper began whistling, causing a small scare amongst the creatures of the forest.

A threatening snarl from Edward let her know that he didn't intend to.

Jasper's whistles didn't cease, just like his exercise of calm over Edward. He winked at Alice and gave Edward a pleading smile. Alice loved her husband more in that moment.

* * *

Isabella opened her eyes to the bright golden rays of the sun. It stunned her, and she wondered if it was still a dream. It wasn't, for even dreams lacked the light of a bright sunny day when one lived in Forks Prairie.

Then, it struck her that the sun only crossed her window past noontime, for it opened in the west. How long had she been sleeping, she didn't know.

As an involuntary act, her hands lifted above her head to stretch her sleepy form. Halfway through, she stopped and groaned in pain.

And just like that the horror of last night returned to haunt her.

Her eyes fixated on the pastel hue of the ceiling, refusing to bat even once as the events of the night before flashed through them. Her gaze then shifted towards the window where the sun shone brightly, blinding her with its glare.

But Isabella refused to blink. She just couldn't…

Edward's volatile nature frightened her, but something else within herself angered her. She didn't know what to think, what to make of this odd behaviour of her husband.

Then the pain…

She had never actually given it a conscious thought. Whatever she knew was by her mother's grace. Yet, she couldn't reconcile with the pain brought on by the mere act of intimacy.

A dull ache ran throughout her body. It reminded her of the time when she got lost in the rainstorm. Her body had ached in a similar way back then when Edward had given her refuge.

He was the cause of the pain this time. Isabella wondered morbidly if the hurt was the same for everyone or if bruises were a common occurrence.

She knew where the bruises were, and she desired not to see them again. Ignorance was bliss, a numbing one at that.

"Bella?" a tiny voice alerted her, and she spun her head to see an equally tiny form standing in her doorway.

She recognised the voice, even though her momentary blindness kept her from seeing her sister-in-law's face.

"Margot, please close the curtains," she heard Alice call out to one of the housemaids.

Soon, the heavy layers of dark maroon curtains blocked the sun out entirely, returning the room to its old gloom.

Isabella blinked profusely, but the stamp of the sun's bright circular form remained wedged in front of her eyes, obstructing her vision.

She sat up and tried to get out of the bed. Alice sat beside her and offered her a helping hand, balancing a platter on the other hand effortlessly.

"What are you doing here?" Isabella asked bluntly, feeling the anger rising within herself. Alice was its first recipient, even though she wasn't the cause behind it.

Alice was taken aback by the sting in Isabella's voice.

"I, uh well, I came to see you and Edward," Alice replied, her eyes avoiding Isabella's. "I was missing you."

"When did you reach?" Isabella inquired in the same cold voice, her glare shifting towards the curtains.

"Only half an hour ago," Alice replied blandly, following Isabella's gaze. Lying seemed like a better bet at this moment. Something about Isabella's questions unsettled her.

"Mr. Mase—Edward?" Isabella continued her interrogation, her inquiring eyes darting back at hers.

"He… is not here at this moment," Alice answered carefully, not knowing where Isabella's mind was. Edward had accompanied Jasper for his impromptu hunt, since smelling a human's blood had accentuated his thirst. She obviously couldn't tell Isabella the truth.

Isabella narrowed her eyes and nodded. "But obviously…"

Alice had never felt more uncomfortable and edgy with a human before. "Bella, I—"

"Why are you all so secretive about it?" Isabella asked suddenly, cutting off Alice. Her tone was impatient and demanding. "Why can't you just tell me the way it is?"

"Pardon?"

"I already know, Alice, I know how horrific it looks, you can't hide the truth. He scares me when he's affected, but I'm trying to cope. I know…"

Alice's eyes widened at Isabella's words, she didn't know an ounce of what she was talking about.

"It's more than a mere headache," Isabella sighed, and it wasn't a question. "It's some sort of a violent seizure that grips him. And he can't control himself while it lasts."

Alice still didn't speak, she was too stunned with her words. Suddenly, everything was clear, everything sorted out on its own, courtesy Isabella. There was no need for any further explanation. All that was left for Alice to do was to corroborate it further.

"Yes, Bella, you're right," she said, feeling relieved yet guilty, "it's more than a headache. We still don't have a cure for these sudden seizures, but my father is trying his best."

"So," Isabella mumbled, rubbing her face tiredly with her hands, "Edward is at Port Angeles, with Dr. Cullen, right?"

Alice nodded and supplied her with the details that proved her right. "He will be staying at our new house for a few days, under Carlisle's observation."

Isabella's shoulders slumped as she began to murmur to herself, "I couldn't understand it at that time, I was so scared… I left him; I just went to bed, when he was suffering… only now I realized."

"Bella, it isn't your fault, you did the right thing by staying away. Edward doesn't need anyone near him at that time. It's too dangerous." Alice was trying her best to palliate Isabella's guilt. It made her feel more culpable than ever.

"You know what happened," Isabella stated, eyeing Alice for any indication that she didn't.

Alice let out a heavy breath and gave her a short nod. She couldn't predict any of her thoughts, perhaps, because Isabella's thoughts were too confusing for even herself.

"He just told me to go away, he was shaking with the spasms, and I didn't understand it in that moment. I wish I could…"

"Bella, if anything, Edward should feel sorry for hurting you, not the other way!" Alice couldn't believe the sudden turn of events. Isabella's guilt was misplaced, but she couldn't tell her the truth to make her see it. "Everything is fine, Edward is fine. You did the right thing by walking away."

"When will he return?"

Alice saw a deep concern in Isabella's eyes, concern for Edward. "Two or three days. Not more than that," she made up an answer, hoping that it would convince Isabella. "I'll be here with you while he's away."

Isabella shook her head and looked away. "You should go back," she asserted, "I'll be fine. I think I might as well pay my uncle a visit. I haven't seen him for days."

Alice couldn't argue with Isabella. She had every right to see Charles, and her presence would only cause interference.

Furthermore, she would be able to have a word with Edward after he returned with Jasper. They needed to know of the made-up scenario of his visit to Port Angeles. If they showed up without her prior warning, Isabella would be quick to put two and two together.

"I think you are right," Alice said thoughtfully, "You should visit your uncle. I'll take care of Edward, and I'll tell him that you know."

She gave Isabella a brief hug and then got up to help her off the bed. "I brought your breakfast here only," she said as she ushered her to the bathroom, "be back soon, and then we can talk some more before I leave."

At that moment, a brief hazy vision caught Alice's attention. She saw that Isabella was contemplating having a discussion with her. The vision made her smile, for she did want Isabella to know more about intimacy between a man and a woman.

Alice knew how to make hazy visions clearer by meddling in the events herself.

* * *

Isabella and Charles ate in silence. It felt awkward to be eating supper together again after a long time.

"So, he has gone to see family?" Charles asked, his eyes concentrating on the meal only.

"Yes," Isabella answered stiffly, feigning interest in the scattered breadcrumbs on her own plate.

"Wasn't it his first visit after the wedding?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you accompany him?" This time, his eyes met with hers.

"I would visit them soon," she replied as calmly as possible. "I wanted to visit you first. This is a weekend, and I can spend time with you."

He smiled sadly upon hearing her plea. "I'm glad that you came."

Isabella couldn't help the tears that began forming in her eyes. She tried to bat them away, but they just kept coming back.

Charles frowned then, as his gaze came to rest upon her wrist. "Is that a… bruise?" His voice rose as spoke the last word.

Isabella quickly covered her wrist with her sleeve, but she knew it was too late. "Um, yes, I-I fell, and Mr. Masen tried to keep me from rolling down the stairs. He had to pull me up by my wrists, so…"

Charles appeared skeptical, but Isabella refrained herself from explaining too much; it would only serve to deepen his suspicions.

"Issy, are you happy… with him?" he asked suddenly, pushing his plate away, "I mean, is he treating you properly?"

She replied without delay, "Yes, I'm very happy. I'm beginning to get spoilt even. He keeps me in absolute luxury."

Charles's frown didn't ease, but he nodded nonetheless.

"How would you like to spend this weekend, Uncle? Shall we go to the beach?" she tried to ask cheerfully, in hope to change the subject. "Angela told me that it looks beautiful. Perhaps I'll invite her as well? I've never been there."

Charles smiled at her over-enthusiasm, but it failed to reach his eyes. "Of course, my child."

Isabella nodded and then prepared to clean up the dining table, but Charles stopped her.

"Don't," he said when Isabella looked at him questioningly, "you'll have me spoiled again. I'll have to learn everything anew after you're gone."

Isabella lowered her gaze to the floor in an attempt to hide the rushing tears, but it was too late. They trailed down her cheeks in tiny streams.

Charles pulled her into a hug and wiped her tears, his own eyes moistened. "Now go to your room and sleep. Tomorrow we'll go to the Webbers' to invite them for the beach picnic."

She gave him a slight nod and then made for her room.

Everything in her room was kept the same, including the few books that she had left behind. They were sitting in the same manner on her little reading table as they always did before her wedding. It was as if she hadn't gone away at all.

Instinctively, Isabella opened the drawer of her table to find the script written by her late Aunt Clara. As always, it beckoned her to read it.

Isabella frowned at she waited in decision over whether to read it again or not. She wasn't comfortable enough with the story of Hades and Persephone.

A long drawn yawn decided for her finally. She went to sleep soon, where in she travelled down the Styx, with Edward keeping her company.

* * *

"Issy!" Angela called out, throwing an apple towards Isabella.

Isabella tried her best, but she missed catching it. The apple pummelled into the sand a feet away from her.

"Ugh! Angela!" Isabella scolded, feeling incompetent, "I told you not to throw things like that! What has gotten into you?"

Angela giggled and picked up the fallen apple. "Nothing, it's not my fault that you're so ungainly," she shrugged. "Perhaps you should practice?"

"And why would I need to practice apple catching, Angela?" Isabella asked, annoyed at her friend's antics.

Angela poked her tongue out at her and plopped on a huge gnarled driftwood on the beach. She pulled Isabella down to sit with her and began to clean the apple with her handkerchief.

"So, Issy, now that we're alone for a while, would you like tell me something?" Angela's eyes were curious, like a small child waiting enthusiastically for a cookie.

"Tell you what?" Isabella felt awkward, for she could sense an impending interrogation.

"You've been married for more than a week now…" Angela wiggled her eyebrows, "how has it been?"

Isabella's face ran scarlet at Angela's question. "I …don't really know. It has been strange. I still haven't adjusted to his way of life."

"His way of life?"

"The luxury, the whole fleet of house servants… I'm not meant to work at all. I cooked a meal just once, and he seemed a bit annoyed that I had ventured into the kitchen." Isabella wanted to spill her heart out to her friend, but she suppressed the urge. Some things weren't meant to be discussed at all.

She waited for Angela to respond, but only silence followed.

When the silence began to grow awkward, she turned herself towards Angela to see why she was quiet. "Angela?"

"So, you're not happy there?" Angela questioned suddenly, "You seem sad and burdened, Issy."

"No, it's not like that," Isabella stated in an attempt to weather Angela's intrusive questions. "I'm just homesick. I miss Uncle. It'll take some time for me to adjust to a new home."

"What about Mr. Masen?" Angela persevered, "does he show affection towards you?"

Isabella hid her face in her hands and groaned in embarrassment. Her blush grew more intense as her body remembered Edward's coaxing touches, his passionate kisses, and his wandering hands.

"When Ben kisses me, I feel alive," Angela sighed, without making any attempt to change Isabella's demeanour. "You don't have to divulge anything, Issy. I just want you to be as happy as I am, in love and happy."

Isabella raised her head smiled shyly. "He does kiss me… a lot."

Angela giggled loudly, earning a playful shove from Isabella. "Oh I'm happy to hear that. Do you reciprocate?"

"I won't tell beyond that." Isabella smiled, despite a minor flinch at the memory of her first intimate night with Edward.

"You mean there is something else beyond that?" Angela gasped in mock surprise, at which Isabella stood up and began walking towards the less sandy parts, where Charles sat conversing with the Webbers.

Her pace slowed down as she observed a group of burly young men heading for the beach. They were tall and looked exceptionally strong, so much that she felt intimidated by their presence.

Angela caught up with her sluggish pace and followed her gaze. "The Quileutes," she commented causally, "they are so huge, they scare me sometimes."

Isabella lagged behind, watching her step carefully so as not to trip over the small rocks and pebbles in her way. Angela took the opportunity to rush for her fruit basket and retrieve another apple.

"Issy! Try and catch it this time!" she shouted, throwing the apple for Isabella to catch again.

"No, Angela!" Isabella shrieked as she tried to hustle towards the dipping apple. Her right shoe got wedged between the rocks and she lost her balance.

Isabella covered her face with her hands as she prepared to fall face first onto a milieu of colourful rocks. Something hard and hot caught her arm and slung her back on her feet.

Miraculously, Isabella was saved from the painful fall, but not from the embarrassment. She peered to her side, where her arm was still secured in a hot grip.

She stared up at her saviour, who looked quite amused. His eyes twinkle with concealed mirth while he peered down at her. Being a Quileute, he indeed was huge, and Isabella felt like a midget standing beside him.

His long hair wisped into his eyes as a slight grin formed on his lips. Isabella blushed with embarrassment and looked down.

"Be careful," he spoke in a deep, clear voice with heavy accent, "You almost ruined your face on these rocks."

"Thank you," Isabella mumbled as he let go of her arm.

"Here, your culprit," he smirked, handing her the apple that Angela had thrown, "be sure you eat it and finish it off. Revenge."

"You caught it?" she asked, rather shocked. "How?"

"I caught it before I caught you, but I saved you both." His smile widened as he began walking away, in the same direction as the other Quileute men had gone a while back.

"Thank you," Isabella mumbled to his retreating form, and he waved back at her.

She turned and hobbled over to Angela, glaring at her all the while. Charles joined them soon, having witnessed her loss of balance.

"Are you all right, Issy?" he asked, frowning in concern as he held her shoulders. She nodded and then returned to glower at Angela.

"He was fast to catch you… and the apple. Thank God for his divine intervention, Issy, otherwise you nearly split your head open." Angela stared at her in disbelief. "You can't catch an apple for the life of you."

Isabella shoved the apple in her hands. "I told you so, but you weren't listening. I'm not like you, Angela; I wasn't the one spending my childhood days climbing trees with Ben!"

Charles tried to hush her, but Isabella was livid.

Angela smiled at her quip but then sobered as she saw Isabella glowering. "All right, I'm sorry. No more apples for you," she said teasingly, though her eyes looked contrite.

Isabella crossed her arms and didn't respond. She was angry at her own clumsiness, than at Angela. She started walking again, and at that moment, her right ankle began to hurt a little.

"I think I may have sprained my ankle slightly in the process of trying to catch that apple," she muttered.

Charles nodded and helped her towards the carriage. "I'll let the Webbers know. We'll call it a day. You need to rest that foot, otherwise it might get worse."

"I'm sorry," Angela said after Charles left. "I didn't mean to… please forgive me, Issy?"

Isabella shook her head and smiled at her despite the pain. Angela's pouting and pleading had weathered her anger. "I'm not mad at you. These things happen, especially with me."

"Thank you," Angela kissed her cheek and hugged her tightly. "I'm glad that you were saved, otherwise I would've spent my entire lifetime hating myself."

Isabella rolled her eyes and hugged her again. "Forget about sprained ankles and apples, and help your parents in packing thing up."

Hence, the picnic came to an end, and everyone headed for their respective homes.

On the way, Charles asked Isabella about her injured foot repeatedly, but Isabella brushed it off. It didn't hurt that much, and she was sure that it would get better once she got some rest.

Upon reaching the Swan residence, Charles helped her in stepping out of the carriage and held her hand until she was safely inside the house. Isabella didn't need the assistance, but she couldn't say no to him and his fatherly love and care.

"I'll close the door, Uncle," she said finally as Charles let her stand on her own. "I feel fine, really."

Charles shook his head and smiled ruefully. "You don't have to brave everything, Issy. Let me take care of everything today. You need to rest your ankle."

"Yes, Uncle, but you must go and freshen up first," she said, pointing to the fine grains of sand stuck to his waistcoat.

"Oh Issy, if you must insist. But no more than closing that door. You go straight to your room after that," Charles scolded her good-naturedly and then hurried over to his room. Isabella smiled as she turned to close the main door.

She had almost closed the door when she caught a glimpse of coppery brown hair around the front porch. Opening the door to double check, she gasped as she saw Edward standing right in front of her.

His hair looked even more disorderly than before while his eyes appeared fierce and alert, as though he was expecting for something to jump at him. He looked perplexed while his nostrils flared as he stared at her from head to toe.

"Bella," he uttered in what sounded like relief. Without giving her another moment to settle with the shock of seeing him, he pulled her to him and gave her a deep, needful kiss on the lips.

The kiss ignited her insides and made her heart flip delightfully. Isabella wheezed a little as her feet hit the floor, she hadn't realized that he had lifted her off the ground. Yet, the throb in her feet wasn't enough to make her break the kiss.

She felt Edward growl into her mouth, the vibrations causing a sweet ache within her. It was surprising how easily she lost all her inhibitions with him once again. It was getting worse every time they touched; the fright was being replaced by passion.

Slowly, the growling changed to a soft purr, and Isabella found herself caressing his wayward tresses. Edward relaxed beneath her fingers, and she marvelled at her ability to cause the change.

She detached her lips from him slowly, but his eager mouth followed her, not yet willing to end their reunion kiss.

"I see you're fine now," she sighed, feeling his lips move to her neck.

He replied with a soft "Hmm."

The throbbing in her ankle increased as he pressed a bit of his weight on her. She groaned in pain then, and that was enough to make Edward desist.

"What? What's wrong?" Edward asked, once again sounding very tense and alert.

"I-I twisted my ankle," she replied softly, looking into his golden eyes. "We went for a picnic to the beach at La Push."

"I… see," Edward's voice sounded strained. Even though he masked it well, Isabella had learnt to note the subtle changes.

"Someone was kind enough to catch my arm. He saved me many a scratches and a possible split forehead," she continued, sensing him stiffen a bit.

"Was he a… a Quileute?" Edward asked carefully, as though he was wishing for it to be untrue.

"Yes."

Isabella saw his eyes darken at her answer, and for once, the fear returned…

* * *

**Please leave me some reviews and let me know that you're not bailing out on me. I don't want the WIP phobia to touch my fic. See me through the epilogue ppl!**

**You can come and visit my twilighted thread for teasers (link in my profile), or better yet, follow me on twitter (I'm Devy_Artemis). Then you can know of all my life fails.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer**: I don't own twilight or any of its characters. If I did, I'd have made it a little darker. But damn that SM owns them. :P

**A/N**_**: I would have posted this chapter sooner, but my health failed me. I was on bed rest, so you can see why the delay happened.  
**_

_**Now, let me tell you a few things. First, Lake Crescent was known as Lake Everett in those times, so no, I didn't dig another lake around Forks.  
**_

_**Second, please read Jasper's Yorkshire ascent correctly. He doesn't utter the phonetic of 'H,' so wherever H is missing, please do your own additions.**_

_**Third, Edward and other Cullens aren't familiar with Quileutes, and there hasn't been any treaty between them so far.  
**_

_**And now, I'd just use one sentence to thank my PTB betas-Bailey and Blakely, for their awesome work. You rock!**_

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* * *

  
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* * *

"Was he a… a Quileute?"

"Yes."

As if the terrible stench coming from her arm wasn't shouting out at him… Isabella's saviour was a Quileute and probably someone Edward already knew. He would have been able to tell if her mind was open to his scrutiny.

Edward's vampire senses told him to be on alert, but his mind registered no reason to do so. The Quileutes always summoned these reactions in him, like a reflex. It was a strange phenomenon.

Amid the mental chaos, he stared at Isabella in puzzlement. Her heartbeat caught his attention then, its nervous thumping telling him she was afraid.

Fear was one reaction he didn't want to invoke in her.

"Oh, Bella," he sighed, and swept her off her feet, much to her surprise. "You shouldn't be standing when your foot is hurt."

A muffled "Oh" escaped her lips as he carried her into the drawing room. She felt like a feather in his hands. He briefly considered carrying her around the manor everyday, irrespective of any injury. The thought delighted him.

"Let me see it," he said, carefully setting her down on a sofa. Lowering himself on his knees, he picked up her unharmed foot, just to amuse himself with her reaction.

"It's the other one," she responded on cue, "and you're not a doctor; you don't have to…"

"I know how to soothe a sprained ankle," he replied with a grin, lifting her injured foot this time. Isabella watched him with confused eyes, her heartbeat still on the increase.

He heard her utter a sound of protest as he removed her shoe, but it died down as soon as his hand cupped her bare heel.

Lifting the layers of her skirt to her calf, he carefully examined her injury. Her heart stuttered a beat, prompting a smile on his face. He was glad to incite the same physical reactions within her as he used to do earlier. Nothing had changed, and that was good news.

"Hold it." He indicated towards her skirt, and she assisted him by timidly grabbing the bunched up material in her hands.

With both of his hands free, he began rubbing her ankle with the tips of his fingers. He looked up and saw her nervously gnawing at her lower lip. Her innocent enough action provoked some not so innocent reactions in him.

As his hand moved against the smooth sole of her foot, a soft gasp escaped her lips.

"Does it hurt?" he asked as he slowly moved her foot to check the extent of her injury.

"No," she gasped again, "it tickles." And then she turned bright red, as though she had said something highly inappropriate.

Edward didn't have to read her mind to know where this reaction stemmed from.

"Well," Edward said impassively, continuing with his observation of her foot, "besides the tickle, does it hurt when I move it like this?" He put some pressure on her ankle, to see if it could carry out normal movements.

She squirmed uncomfortably and nodded, her teeth digging more forcefully into her lip.

"Hmm, it _is_ sprained," he affirmed, ceasing the forced movements on her foot. He just held it in his hands, revelling in the softness of her skin.

"It feels better this way," she acknowledged, eyeing his hands, "your cold hands… "

He smiled at her, happy to be benefiting her, even though it was because of his unnaturally cold skin. "Does it feel better like this?" he asked, massaging her foot lightly.

"Yes," she sighed and closed her eyes. "Mmmhh… thank you, Edward."

"My pleasure," he replied in a whisper. His name on her lips was even more provoking than her lip biting, especially when uttered in a sigh.

He thought of moving up against her and claiming her lips. She would make those low, husky noises when he would touch her, right there on the sofa…

"Issy, I thought you were—Oh!"

His salacious reverie was broken by Charles's interruption. Edward was surprised that he couldn't hear his approach, owing to his lewd daydream.

Isabella, suddenly self-conscious, fumbled and attempted to remove her foot from Edward's grasp. He didn't let go.

"Hello Charles," he simpered, caressing Isabella's foot as though it were a prized possession. "I'm here to take Bella home."

Charles stared at both of them, wide-eyed and flustered.

"How?" Isabella spoke before Charles could, "I never saw a carriage or heard the horses gallop…"

It was in moments like these when reading her mind became absolutely essential, for she was far too observant.

As for taking a carriage, Edward hadn't even given it a thought. How could he? When Alice told him that Isabella had vanished from her visions, he had unthinkingly made a mad dash towards the Swan residence.

And now he was without an explanation.

"I… well," he tried to prolong the moment, in hope of conjuring up a believable lie.

_You know what height of idiocy is, Edward? Acting without deliberation, _the scolding mental voice of Alice filtered into his head. _Tell her that you sent the carriage back to the manor because Alice demanded so… It'll be arriving shortly._

Although her patronizing irritated him, he silently thanked her for her quick thinking.

_You're welcome_, she replied in the same breath.

"Alice needed it, and she demanded that I send her back to the manor," he replied smoothly. "She'll be sending it back."

Isabella looked confused. "Why? She didn't want to meet me?" she asked in a disappointed tone.

"She wanted to, but at the manor." He smiled sympathetically. "Alice has her own special way of welcoming family home."

_Right, brother. And you 'ave your own special way of bamboozling an unsuspecting, non-clairvoyant vampire like me,_ Jasper's thoughts joined Alice's inside his head, echoing frustration. _Get at 'ome quickly, I'm dying to know everything…_

Edward felt the need to shake his head at Jasper's morbid curiosity, but he decided to concentrate on Isabella instead, lest she catch him off-guard again.

"Oh, but I haven't been away that long," Isabella mumbled, still looking confused, "for her to welcome me in some special manner."

"For Alice, it _is_ special, and I respect her wishes," Edward shrugged.

Isabella nodded absentmindedly. At the same time, vibrations of an approaching carriage could be heard.

* * *

As the carriage came to a stop in front of the Masen mansion, Isabella chanced a surreptitious glance at Edward.

He appeared calm and collected now, unlike an hour ago at her doorstep. She wondered what triggered his surly moods. It may or may not be related to his seizures.

"You miss him," he muttered suddenly, and Isabella barely caught the quickly spoken words.

"Who?"

"Your uncle, who else?"

"He's my only family, of course I miss him."

Edward pursed his lips, clearly not pleased with what she had said. She didn't understand why he seemed so sullen at her answer.

"You don't miss me," he said after a long drawn sigh, his face fixed in a frown. "I am your husband, I'm your family as well, lest you forget."

The hurt in his voice made her cringe inwardly. She didn't know how to respond, and hence, an odd silence prevailed between them inside the carriage.

Alice barged into the carriage right then, shocking Isabella. Edward seemed unaffected by her sudden appearance.

"Bella, my lovely!" she moved forward, and Isabella prepared herself for a hug. Midway, Alice halted, a strange look taking over her happy demeanour.

Isabella watched in recognition as Alice's nostrils flared. It looked disconcertingly similar to Edward's expression when he was at her doorstep an hour ago.

A sudden urge to disembark the carriage gripped Isabella.

"Alice," Edward spoke up then, his voice attaining a subtly threatening tone as he stared coldly at his sister. "Her ankle is sprained."

"Oh?" Alice's mouth opened in shock. It seemed too overt a reaction.

"I'll carry her to her room," Edward stated as he made out of the carriage, literally dragging Alice with him. It seemed like they were whispering to each other, but Isabella couldn't be sure.

She stood up then, putting all her weight on her good foot. Edward pulled her out before she could protest and hoisted her in his arms immediately. Isabella wanted to argue for her foot being fine, but something about Edward's arms enclosed around her changed her mind. She rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her into the mansion, Alice right behind him.

Her right hand drifted towards his chest to hold onto his lapels. She knew he wouldn't drop her, yet still, she wanted to hold him.

The stairs didn't even feel like stairs. It was akin to a cloud carrying her. Edward was swift; he took her to her room without breaking into a sweat. Bella wondered if there'd be a situation where he would indeed fret. It didn't appear so, and that was strange enough.

"No elaborate welcomes, Alice," Edward told his sister as he put Isabella back on her feet, right next to her bed. "She needs to rest her foot."

"I'm fine," Isabella countered rather passionately. Edward's overprotective mannerisms were making her feel like an infant.

Alice smiled at her while Edward fumed.

"Bella, you shouldn't—"

"She's fine if she says she's fine," Alice thwarted Edward's attempt to impose himself again. "And I'm not going to make her dance or anything like it. We're just going to spend some time together… before Jasper and I leave."

Alice's persuasion worked; Edward slumped his shoulders and gave them both a stiff nod. He left the room soon after, courting a reluctant expression.

"Bella, forgive him, he's very…" Alice seemed to struggle to explain Edward's strange mannerisms, so Isabella gave a piece of her mind on the subject.

"Mercurial?" She raised an eyebrow at Alice, pointing towards the door with her chin.

Alice smiled mischievously at her and nodded.

"Overbearing as well."

Alice laughed then, and Isabella's face lit up along with hers.

"We'll talk more about it after you return from your bath," Alice promised as she assisted Isabella towards the bathroom.

Isabella indeed wanted to talk, about several things that she had wondered but never outrightly asked. This seemed like an opportunity more information from Alice, who appeared to be more approachable than Edward.

* * *

As per Edward's wishes, Alice didn't let Isabella do anything even minutely strenuous. Even her dinner was brought to her bedroom.

She gave Isabella company as she ate her food, while having a constant conversation with Jasper and Edward. The three vampires were talking to each other in a hushed manner—too low for any human to hear; Isabella had no inkling about it.

"Why did she vanish from your visions? _How_ did she vanish? Has this happened before or has your power started failing you?" Edward's voice was cutting as he hurled a cluster of questions at Alice.

She grinned at Bella, her jaw slightly clenched in derision. Controlling her reactions was hard, but she couldn't let Isabella see any part of their hostile tête-à-tête.

"When I visited Paris, I was completely flummoxed by the variety in cloth and lace," Alice made small talk with Isabella, who looked sympathetic. "I wanted to collect everything that was unique, especially for your wedding."

_If I knew, I'd have told you, you half-wit!_ she mentally yelled at Edward. _This has never happened before. You are the one who absolutely cannot read her mind. You have no right to tell me that my power is slipping…_

"Something really horrible could have happened to her, do you… realize that?" Edward's voice, which was rising with every word, lost its vigour as his temper suddenly plummeted, courtesy of Jasper.

"Fashion frightens me," Isabella confessed as she poked a morsel with her fork, oblivious to the argument between Edward and Alice.

_You'd be foolish to think that I don't care for Bella, Edward._ Alice's dead heart ached over his accusations. _I would never choose to ignore her future…_

"I honestly don't know half the things you talk about. But I'm thankful to you for my wedding trousseau." Isabella's eyes brimmed with gratitude as she reached for Alice's glove-covered hand. It was a balm to her hurting heart.

"I… am sorry, Alice." Edward let out a frustrated breath as he leaned into his chair beside Jasper, who was busy fiddling with his newly acquired cricket gear.

Alice silently accepted his apology, not letting it affect her façade of cheerfulness in front of Isabella. "Oh, it wasn't all me, Angela was there as well. But it was a pleasure to organise your wedding, Bella, and to see Edward finally getting married."

Isabella's lips pulled up in a faint, yet mysterious smile. "You say it like he's an old man… like he has been waiting for an eternity."

The room fell silent, as Alice tried to gauge the meaning behind her cryptic expression. She knew Isabella had questions in her mind, but she wasn't sure which ones she'd ask.

"That reminds me, how old is he…?" One such question became clear then.

Isabella's query put Edward on tenterhooks.

_How old are you, Edward… for pretence's sake?_ Alice fired at him as soon as Isabella looked at her for an answer.

"Tell her I'm old enough to be her husband," Edward replied coldly, but the very next moment, his tone changed. "I'm twenty-three for her sake."

"Twenty-three," Alice supplied, suppressing her urge to chuckle at her brother's sudden cave-in. He could no longer pretend to be uncaring about others' feelings, especially his wife's. He had to comply.

Isabella's eyes narrowed as she regarded Alice's answer. "He seems to have achieved a lot at a young age."

Alice merely nodded, not providing any further information. _I'm not feeling very comfortable with her, Edward, would you like to come over here and answer her queries yourself?_

"Not now, I'm trying to think." Edward's response was blunt and confusing.

Alice tried to concentrate on his future to see what he was trying to do, but nothing significant showed. _Are you saying that you can't think around Bella?_ She tried to bait him.

Isabella spoke before Edward could reply. "Alice, you make that face often, a strange expression of extreme focus yet faraway eyes. What is it?"

"That is what you get for being overly friendly with 'umans, Ally, they get all feisty with you," Jasper commented, sounding highly amused. Alice wanted to throw him across the forest.

Edward chuckled at her thoughts. He was to be thrown right after Jasper.

"I don't know what you mean, Bella," Alice shrugged, an attempt to evade Isabella's prying question, "I must make funny faces without knowing it."

That made Isabella chuckle. It was a deceptive response, as though Isabella was trying to humour her. It bothered Alice.

"Alice," Edward called for her attention then, "I was thinking about that obnoxious stink on Bella… when I brought her back."

_Oh! _Alice's mind recoiled at the memory._ At first, I thought it was the sea… but then… I don't know why, that smell made me feel overly cautious, when it was only Bella. It was very strange indeed…_

"Speak aloud for my sake," Jasper requested, "I'm the sane one here."

As she recited everything to Jasper, Alice kept an eye on Isabella, who was concentrating on her food for a change. She was suddenly very wary of her.

"When we were in the forest, discussing how Bella thinks he's suffering from seizures, Bella's future suddenly shifted and I lost all my visions containing her. Edward saw it in my head and thus, he flailed over to the Swans'. And I don't know where the current discussion about her scent is leading us, but she smelt really horrible prior to taking a bath."

Jasper fell silent for a few seconds, presumably putting the missing pieces together in his head.

"She smelled like a wet dog," Edward provided rather impatiently, "I couldn't stand the stench when I first smelled it. And then, when I smelled it on Bella, I nearly—"

"Wait, you mean, you have smelled it on someone else before?" Jasper cut in, his voice filled with strange excitement.

"The Quileutes," Edward supplied. "Some of them are employed as labour in my lumbering business. No human has ever smelt that bad to me. It is an extremely repulsive smell. And it's not only repulsive; it puts me on alert every time I smell it. It sends out a threat of some sort…"

"A threat to a vampire?" Utter surprise coloured Jasper's tone. "I am 'aving a lot of difficulty in digesting that. Maybe it's just to alert us that this food is not worth 'aving."

His jocularity went unappreciated.

Alice pursed her lips as she assimilated the information given by Edward. His observation about the strange scent on Isabella did match with her own. _Tell me about their thoughts, Edward…_

"They have quite delusional minds."

"'ow come?" Jasper seemed even more intrigued than before.

"The ones that work for me, they have strange thought processes. Often times, their thoughts blur. I see wolves in their mind's eye, unlike any species I have known. They think of themselves as wolves sometimes, which I think relates to their native legends."

"Native legends… hmm," Jasper muttered, "what sort of native legends?"

"That's not vital here, Jasper," Alice interrupted, to veer the conversation back on its focus. "I want to know how Bella got this smell on her." Meanwhile, she tried to think of a way to engage Isabella, for her dinner was almost over. She wasn't very thrilled about answering any more of her badgering questions.

A game of chess seemed like a good choice, for it would also serve as a test to prove that her power still worked on Isabella.

"One of the Quileutes saved her from falling at the beach. And his smell was all over her right arm." Alice could hear the subdued growl in Edward's voice.

It didn't take long for her to see why he was so thoroughly annoyed when he brought Isabella home. "So, you think they're violent…?"

"They _are_ violent. It was a Quileute labourer that raised a ruckus at Lake Everett. And most of them have violent thoughts; at least whenever I am around the lumbering premises."

"And you're worried about Bella because she was saved by one of them? Maybe all of them aren't like that." Alice was attempting to play the devil's advocate.

"Don't you understand, Alice? Bella disappeared from your visions!"

"Yet, nothing happened to her. In fact, a Quileute actually saved her. It could very well be the other way round. Maybe her fall would've been fatal, if not for the quick rescue by that Quileute man."

Edward fell silent, for she had given him plenty of food for thought.

When Isabella finished her food, Alice called for a maidservant to take her platter away. Soon, a chessboard was laid out in front of them. Isabella was keen to play, much to Alice's relief.

"Future is a fickle thing, Edward," Alice tried to plead her case, "it changes with the change in situations. Bella's future became a void because her life was probably in danger. It came back to me when she was saved."

"That's one theory," Jasper mused, while Edward sighed. "A good one at that."

Alice flicked one of Isabella's knights, the one she had positioned to trap her rook. Isabella smiled and shook her head. "You're a wicked player, Alice."

"I have been playing for a long time," Alice replied with a smirk.

"I think your explanation makes sense," Edward finally mumbled, his tone returning to a more pleasant note.

Isabella decided to move her other knight, attempting to target Alice's bishop. Even though Alice knew how to counter that move and the next one as well, she didn't.

"Tell me more about the thoughts of those Quileutes. What do they think about you?" Jasper prompted Edward, who acquiesced.

"They don't like me…" He stood up and began pacing around the grand hall at human pace. "But they don't have a plausible reason for it. They think I smell so sweet it burns their noses. But one them, the calmer one, had observed me closely whenever I was visiting. He kept thinking about my eyes. It was hard to listen to their thoughts on a constant basis, for there were a lot of people present. The chorus of thoughts was maddening."

A few minutes passed in silent contemplation, and then Jasper burst into peels of mirth. "You smell too sweet, Edward! Oh brother!"

Edward grumbled irately, but it had no impact on Jasper. Alice was trying her mightiest to suppress a laugh herself.

"Check mate," Isabella announced as she conquered the black king of Alice, and then proceeded to add, "I don't know… but I feel as though you've let me win."

The laughter from downstairs suddenly died.

Alice chortled at Isabella's quip, feeling disconcerted by her exceptional observatory skills.

"She is sharp," Edward warned, "be very careful."

_I know…_ Alice agreed nervously, her mind suddenly giving her a glimpse of Isabella's next action. Edward stiffened and froze in his place.

Isabella leaned forward and grabbed Alice's hand. Very neatly, she pulled her glove off and clasped her cold hand between hers. Her audacity surprised Alice.

"Are you always so cold?" Isabella asked innocently, but Alice knew better. "You and Edward should carry grate baskets with you… filled to the brim with coal embers."

"She sure asks all the right questions," Jasper muttered sarcastically while Edward chose to remain silent, still frozen in his spot.

"It's… " Alice found herself in a difficult situation once again, for she had no truthful reply for Isabella.

She could hear Edward approaching the room.

"You two aren't even related—" The bedroom door burst open, startling Isabella. Edward's dramatic entry into the room was enough to silence her.

"Alice," Edward uttered in a cold, commanding voice, glaring at the bedpost but not at Isabella, "I think you should let her sleep now. She needs her rest."

Alice nodded and then moved to stand beside him. "Goodnight, Bella."

Isabella's face was still frozen in shock. "I… are you leaving?" she blurted, sounding desperate.

"We leave early in the morning," Alice answered with a reassuring smile.

"Very early," Edward added, his face now a mask of impassiveness as he looked at Isabella. "You might as well say your goodbyes here only; I have my doubts that you'll be awake when they leave."

"Oh…" A look of disappointment spread across Isabella's face. "Then… goodbye and a pleasant journey from my side, Alice," she spoke softly whilst attempting to stand up.

Edward helped her and supported her fragile body against his, holding her by her waist.

Alice gave Isabella a quick hug and then moved away, not wanting to give away any more similarities between her and Edward.

"Give my regards to Mr. Whitlock."

"Of course, Bella, take care."

Isabella gave her a light smile as she walked out of the room. The smile was comparable to Mona Lisa's; Alice didn't know what emotions hid behind it.

She didn't stay at the manor for long. With Jasper by her side, she left for Port Angeles in the next hour only.

* * *

The Quileute elders and their successors sat in a close huddle, surrounding a dwindling bonfire. It was time to partake and provide knowledge to the next generation, a time to shed the veil of secrecy. Another one had to be initiated…

Jacob, the only son of the Chief, sat in confused silence as one of the elders recited the old legends of their tribe to Embry, the newest member of his wolf pack.

"In the beginning, the tribe settled in this harbour and became skilled ship builders and fishermen. But the tribe was small, and the harbour was rich in fish. There were others who coveted our land, and we were too small to hold it. A larger tribe moved against us, and we took to our ships to escape them.

"Kaheleha, who wasthe first great Spirit Chief in our history, used magic to defend our land. He and all his warriors left the ship — not their bodies, but their spirits. The men took their spirits back to our harbour. They could not physically touch the enemy tribe, but they had other ways. The stories tell us that they could blow fierce winds into their enemy's camps; they could make a great screaming in the wind that terrified their foes. The stories also tell us that the animals could see the spirit warriors and understand them; the animals would do their bidding."

The Council went through the same process with each one of them, for it was absolutely essential.

"Kaheleha took his spirit army and wreaked havoc on the intruders. The survivors scattered, calling our harbour a cursed place. The Quileutes returned to their bodies and their families, victorious."

A look of pride formed on each face sitting in the huddle.

It was the fourth time Jacob was sitting at an initiation ceremony, listening to these tales of bravery and mystic magic.

The narration began again, with tale of Chief Taha Aki, and Jacob became more alert than ever. This was the critical legend in terms of what he wanted to discuss.

"He was known for his wisdom, and for being a man of peace. The people lived well and content in his care… But there was one man, Utlapa, who was not content. Utlapa was one of Chief Taha Aki's strongest spirit warriors — a powerful man, but a grasping man, too. He thought the people should use their magic to expand their lands, to enslave other people to build an empire.

"Taha Aki saw what Utlapa dreamed, and thus, commanded him to leave. The furious outcast hid in the forest nearby, waiting for a chance to get revenge against the chief."

Everyone knew of these stories, they were etched inside the mind of every Quileute. Yet now, their true meaning was revealed. They weren't mere stories anymore, they were lessons on how to protect the tribe.

Jacob was collecting all the vital information from a strange encounter inside his head in order to present these facts to the elders. Their wisdom was necessary to assess the situation better.

"In order to keep vigilance, Taha Aki often went to a sacred, secret place in the mountains. He would leave his body behind and sweep down through the forests and along the coast, making sure no threat approached. One day when Taha Aki left to perform this duty, Utlapa followed.

"Utlapa waited until he was sure the chief had traveled some distance with his spirit self, and then moved his spirit into his body. Taha Aki, having seen Utlapa's plan when he joined him in spirit world, raced back to his secret place, but when he returned, his body was already gone. Utlapa's body lay abandoned, but Utlapa had not left Taha Aki with an escape — he had cut his own body's throat with Taha Aki's hands."

The elder reciting the tale, Embry's father, explained in great detail how Taha Aki brought the magic of transformation to their tribe.

A smile formed on Jacob's lips as the elder recited how Chief Taha Aki fused his spirit within a wolf's body to try to communicate with his men. How his love for his people helped him find the strength to show his spirit self in flesh.

"The love he had for his people and the hatred he had for their oppressor were too vast for the wolf's body, too human. The wolf shuddered, and — before the eyes of the shocked warriors and Utlapa — transformed into a man.

"The new man was the flesh interpretation of Taha Aki's spirit. The warriors recognized him at once, for they had flown with Taha Aki's spirit. Utlapa tried to run, but Taha Aki had the strength of the wolf in his new body. He caught Utlapa and crushed the spirit from him before he could jump out of the stolen body."

Jacob was fond of this particular tale; he could understand the burden of the responsibility to protect his tribe. He could identify with Chief Taha Aki, in more ways than one.

"Taha Aki quickly set everything right. He led the tribe for many, many years. Taha Aki fathered many sons, and some of these found that, after they had reached the age of manhood, they, too, could transform into wolves. The wolves were all different, because they were spirit wolves and reflected the men they were inside."

A few murmurs followed from the members of the pack, all in jest. Paul was teasing Embry about the colour of his fur.

Jacob sighed… wishing he could be carefree at this moment like Paul.

"That is how the magic came to us, but it is not the end of the story. . . ."

This was the moment Jacob was waiting for, the point where Chief Taha Aki's tale took a critical turn. He waited with practiced patience for the story to reach its culmination.

"Many years after Taha Aki gave up his spirit wolf, trouble began in the north, with the Makahs. Several young women of their tribe had disappeared, and they blamed it on the neighboring wolves, who they feared and mistrusted. The wolf-men could still read each other's thoughts while in their wolf forms, and they knew that none of their number was to blame.

"Taha Aki tried to pacify the Makah chief, but there was too much fear. Taha Aki did not want to have a war on his hands. He charged his oldest wolf-son, Taha Wi, with finding the true culprit. Taha Wi led his pack on a search through the mountains, looking for any evidence of the missing Makahs. They came across something they had never encountered before — a strange, sweet scent in the forest that burned their noses to the point of pain."

Quil's eyes flickered towards Jacob, who knew all too well about a strange, sweet smell that had burnt their noses.

That odd smell incited violent tendencies within him. It was the same with others who worked with him at Lake Everett. Paul had almost phased right in front of everyone once, for he couldn't stand the lingering smell of that man… the pale man. He had only recently joined the pack, and he was volatile.

The story of Chief Taha Aki continued while Jacob tried to assess the situation at hand—the mystery of the pale man.

"They did not know what creature would leave such a scent, but they followed it. They found faint traces of human scent and blood along the trail. They were sure this was the enemy they were searching for."

_Enemy_… Jacob still didn't know if he should think of the pale man as one. After all of Paul's violent outbursts, he still forgave him and let him work on his property. Should that be taken into account?

"Taha Wi sent half the pack, the younger ones, back to the harbour to report to Taha Aki. Taha Wi and his two brothers did not return. Taha Aki mourned for his sons. He wished to avenge his sons' deaths, but he was old. A year later, two Makah maidens disappeared from their homes on the same night. The Makahs called on the Quileute wolves at once, who found the same sweet stink all through the Makah village. The wolves went on the hunt again.

"Only one came back. He was Yaha Uta, the oldest son of Taka Aki's third wife. He brought something with him that had never been seen in all the days of the Quileutes—a strange, cold, stony corpse that he carried in pieces. All who were of Taha Aki's blood, even those who had never been wolves, could smell the piercing smell of the dead creature."

It was as though the legend itself was resonating this fact again and again towards Jacob—piercing, vile smell. It should be enough to prove the implication everyone in his pack was putting forth.

Yet, one other fact nagged at him every time he tried to see the pale man as his enemy…

"Yaha Uta described what had happened: he and his brothers had found the creature, who looked like a man but was hard as a granite rock, with the two Makah daughters. One was already dead, white and bloodless on the ground. The other was in the creature's arms, his mouth at her throat. The creature quickly snapped her neck when they approached. His white lips were covered in her blood, and his eyes glowed red."

_Glowing red eyes_… That one detail perplexed Jacob. The pale man's eyes didn't have a pint of red in them. His eyes were golden, or perhaps yellowy-orange, but certainly not red.

Could that mean that he wasn't the enemy of their tribe? That was the question Jacob wanted to ask here, at the Council meeting. The emphasis laid on the eyes told him that this information was vital.

"Yaha Uta described the fierce strength and speed of the creature. They had to work together to outmanoeuvre it. They had to reach the very limits of their wolf strength and speed. The creature was hard as stone and cold as ice. They found that only their teeth could damage it. They began to rip small pieces of the creature apart while it fought them."

Jacob hadn't touched his skin, so there was no way to know if the pale man was cold as ice or hard like the description given in the story. Even though his instincts told him that he was, he couldn't fully rely on them. Especially when it meant life or death for that man.

"The creature got its hands on Yaha Uta's brother. Yaha Uta found an opening on the creature's throat, and he lunged. His teeth tore the head off the creature, but the hands continued to mangle his brother. Yaha Uta ripped the creature into unrecognizable chunks, tearing pieces apart in a desperate attempt to save his brother. He was too late, but, in the end, the creature was destroyed. Or so they thought."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul shaking. A meaningful look at Quil ensured that he was helped in calming down.

"Yaha Uta laid the reeking remains out to be examined by the elders. One severed hand lay beside a piece of the creature's granite arm. The two pieces touched when the elders poked them with sticks, and the hand reached out towards the arm piece, trying to reassemble itself.

"Horrified, the elders set fire to the remains. A great cloud of choking, vile smoke polluted the air. When there was nothing but ashes, they separated the ashes into many small bags and spread them far and wide — some in the ocean, some in the forest, some in the cliff caverns. Taha Aki wore one bag around his neck, so he would be warned if the creature ever tried to put himself together again."

The elder narrating the story paused and looked at Jacob's father, Chief Howyatel. Chief Howyatel pulled out a leather string from around his neck to show a small bag hanging at its end, blackened with age.

It was the same bag that carried their enemy's ashes. It was more than a mere precautionary reminder to Jacob. To him, it was also a tie to their history, a tangible testament to the resilience of their tribe.

"They called it The Cold One, the Blood Drinker, and lived in fear that it was not alone. They did not have long to wait. The creature had a mate, another Cold One, who came to the Quileutes seeking revenge."

The narration continued, telling young Embry how the third wife of Taha Aki sacrificed her life to help him kill the creature.

"The third wife plunged a knife into her own heart. Blood spurted through the third wife's fingers and splashed against the Cold Woman. The blood drinker could not resist the lure of the fresh blood. Instinctively, she turned to the dying woman, for one moment entirely consumed by thirst. Taha Aki's teeth closed around her neck."

Sighs of relief followed. Jacob didn't pay any attention to them, for his mind was preoccupied.

"Taha Aki never rejoined the tribe. He never changed back to a man again. He lay for one day beside the body of the third wife, growling whenever anyone tried to touch her, and then he went into the forest and never returned."

Jacob could see the devotion of Taha Aki in his own eyes then, as a beautiful face appeared in his head.

"Trouble with the cold ones was rare from that time on. Taha Aki's sons guarded the tribe until their sons were old enough to take their places. There were never more than three wolves at a time. It was enough."

When the initiation ceremony was over, Jacob rose to his feet and put forth his most gnawing query.

"There is a man in the area outside the reservation… the members of the pack suspect him to be a Cold One."

The elders' faces grew grim as Jacob explained the similarities between the pale man—Edward Masen—and the Cold Ones contained in their legends.

"But for one thing, he resembles the description given by you," Jacob announced gravely, accompanied by sense of betrayal towards his employer.

"What does not match the description?" Chief Howyatel asked.

"His eyes. He has golden eyes."

The Council fell silent.

The other members of his pack wanted to go ahead and kill the threat, but Jacob's command forbade them to do so until the he'd had a word with the Council. He was the leader of the pack, the soon to be Chief, and no one dared to defy the leader.

"Golden eyes," one of the elders, Embry's father, muttered. "But he fulfils the other criteria."

"In all of the narrations of the legends, one detail has rung loudly to me—the glowing red eyes," Jacob stated with conviction, "but this man doesn't have them. And we don't know if his skin is cold. Yes, he's pale and his smell burns our nose, but that is not enough to prove him guilty of being a Cold One."

"What if he attacks suddenly?" Paul interrupted, his frame shaking furiously again. Quil put a hand on his shoulder and chose to talk on his behalf.

"Our homes are still recovering from the damage caused by the fire, Jacob. A crazy man from outside the reservation destroyed almost our entire heritage. We cannot just watch and wait while another creature comes up here to destroy everything we have rebuilt."

He was right, of course.

"But I cannot let a man suffer the consequences of another man's actions," Jacob tried to explain calmly. "And I must mention that we aren't fighting the pale faces here. Just because Edward Masen is one of them, doesn't mean that we should go after him."

"Your nose must not function very well, Jacob," Paul sneered, "because I cannot even breathe when he's around."

Jacob ignored him.

"We must keep in mind that what we know may not always be the final truth there is," Jacob paused for a moment to let his words be understood the way he meant them. "We know that the glowing red eyes mean it's the enemy. Of golden eyes—we know nothing. It could very mean something different from the red eyes."

"People have different coloured eyes," Embry pointed, looking unsure as to where he stood in this argument.

"But the Cold Ones are known by their red eyes."

"Then what do you suggest that we do?" one of the elders asked.

Jacob's reply was prompt. "We should wait… and keep a watch around the area covering the reservation."

"But the problem is not within the reservation."

"Yet our duty is to protect _our_ people. We can ensure that by running along the boundary to see to it that no foul smelling creature crosses it."

Jacob was winning this argument. He knew it when he saw the elders nodding to what he said.

The members of the pack would have to accept his decision, albeit begrudgingly.

* * *

The Masen manor was claustrophobically silent when Isabella woke up. She soon realized that it wasn't early morning, and she had missed the departure of Alice and Jasper.

Edward could have woken her up, but he didn't. Sometimes his domineering ways tested her patience.

She was still annoyed at the way he had interrupted her conversation with Alice last night. He was trying to suppress Alice in some way. It was blatantly obvious. Isabella had seen the look of apprehension on Alice's face whenever she had asked anything about Edward.

One thing was now clear to Isabella—this family had secrets. And she wanted to know about them, since she was a part of this family. She didn't like to stay in the dark.

Angrily, she got up from the bed and hobbled to the bathroom to take a bath. She didn't need one, as she taken a bath last night only, but something about warm water calmed her.

Nevertheless, she was sure Edward would send one of the maidservants to assist her if he got a whiff it. It was better to do everything quietly, lest anyone interrupt her.

Her ankle felt better. The pain was a dull ache, and she could indeed walk around without much difficulty. She didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

When she was through with her bath, she wrapped a luxuriant Turkish towel around herself and made for the dressing room.

Once inside the dressing room, she got a shock. Edward was standing there, glaring at her dressing table, his hand crossed over his chest.

A volcano was about to erupt.

Isabella stood frozen for moment, too shocked to move.

"You didn't need a bath," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Then why, Bella?"

Isabella stared at him for a while, in the grip of anger herself. But then, seeing his perfect features form a child-like petulant expression, an inadvertent giggle escaped her lips.

Edward turned towards her then, his eyes widening and his jaw slack. "Did you just… laugh at me?"

Isabella wanted to explain herself, but suddenly, Edward's mood seemed to shift. His fixated gaze travelled all over her towel-covered body, reminding her of her state of undress beneath it. Heat surged to her face, and she wished to disappear.

Edward's mouth finally closed shut after his eyes had perused her. He made a move towards her, and she stepped back reflexively.

"Bella," he sighed as he took her hand and made her sit on a nearby settee. Of late, she had become a little leery of settees.

"I would have sent someone to assist you, had you told me you wanted a bath," he said softly, looking up at her as he sat down in front of her, the same way he had at Charles's.

"But that's the issue," she replied, looking anywhere else than his face, for his face was distracting. "I didn't want anyone to assist me. I'm all right, the ankle is fine."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Let me see, then." Before Isabella could object, he had her ankle in his grasp.

Edward moved her foot around in his hand, nodding to himself. "It seems better, but it has still not fully recovered."

"I can walk, I don't need help," she stated petulantly, her hands grasping at her towel. He was making her jittery, sitting so close and touching her.

Isabella stared at his glorious hands, knowing full well where they had been only a few days ago. She was aware of the disarming power those long, lean fingers had.

"Bella, I will make sure that you don't put stress on your foot," Edward told her resolutely, raising her injured foot to his face and planting a firm kiss on it.

"I—Mr. Mase—Edward—ugh!" she mumbled, feeling flustered and stunned at his action.

The kiss didn't stop there, his lips dragged across her calf in a long, lazy caress. Isabella's breathing became erratic as her eyes finally met Edward's, the heat in his eyes melting her resolve to defy him.

"Wh-What would you do to ensure th-that?" she stuttered through her now embarrassingly loud breathing.

He kissed her knee then, resting her foot atop shoulder as his hands crept up and down her leg.

"I will distract you…" he answered, a hint of roughness in his honey-dripping voice.

Their eyes never left each other's…

Edward's eyes seemed to glow a deep golden as he moved up and pulled her face towards him.

"Bella," he breathed into her face, sending his sweet, heady scent her way, "please promise me you won't strain your foot. Or else I'll carry you around."

His hand pressed against her knee, his fingers making shapeless patterns on her skin.

"Promise?" Their lips barely touched as he spoke, his forehead resting against hers.

"Hmm," she inhaled deeply, lost into the feel of his proximity.

"Promise me, Bella…" he whispered.

"I …Promise."

And unexpectedly, Edward moved back and stood up, leaving her panting on the settee. Isabella looked up at him in utter surprise, feeling disorientated and at a loss for words.

"Good," he smiled like a Cheshire cat, "now get dressed, will you?"

She looked down at herself, her face flushing as she saw her parted legs. She didn't even remember moving them any which way.

Edward stepped backwards towards the door, a smirk gracing his handsome face. He knew what he had just done to her, and so did she.

Isabella got up from the settee after Edward left, moving to her closet to pick a dress. A pleasurable sensation shot through her as she walked, something she had only felt with Edward. It spread out from between her legs.

Alice had told her about the physical relationship between a man and his wife. Isabella had blushed a lot during that conversation, for she then knew what Edward was doing.

The pain of their first attempt at intimacy still frightened her, but she trusted Alice's word.

_The pain would give way to pleasure eventually_… Isabella tried to think about such a scenario and blushed some more.

She wanted to feel these sensations; she wanted to feel Edward the way a wife ought to.

As she dressed, Isabella scowled at her reflection in the mirror… because Edward had just left her wanting.

* * *

**This story has roughly reached the half way mark, I think. I would've been certain if I had the full summary with me, but my comp crash took it away.**

**I'd like to pimp out my fave sites for Twiverse- www[dot]adifferentforest[dot]com. It's an interactive site, and the ppl there are warm and friendly. Come pay a visit. And there's myvampfiction[dot]com - a blog for everything that's vampire. Very rich in info.**

**IMP INFO- The voting for the DARKWARD CONTEST is open now, so plz vote for my entry _Danse Macabre_ (Link to voting page is in my profile). The last date is 15th Nov, so Hurry! haha...  
**

** I will continue this story in Jan. :)**

**NOTES-**

The fire that Quileutes are talking about is the one that actually had happened in 1889. A person who wanted the property that was a part of the reservation had started the fire, just for revenge.

The legends have been taken from Eclipse.

Yes, I have changed the name of Jacob's father, but not of Jacob, because he was born at the time when the Quileutes had started adopting biblical names.**  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer**: I don't own twilight or any of its characters. If I did, I'd have made it a little darker. But damn that SM owns them. :P

**A/N:** Since plot took centre stage in the last chapter, I'm giving this chapter to character development and interaction. And I must thank each one of you lovely reviewers for the awesome responses. Due my hectic schedule, I'm unable to reply to them all. I'm going full-on on writing, so I hardly get any time left out of RL. I hope you guys understand. :)

* * *

Edward descended the stairs quickly, an attempt to stop himself from going back to Isabella while she dressed. A maidservant was sent to her room to assist her lest she hurt herself again. Also, the presence of an outsider provided enough of a deterrence for him since morning wasn't a very appropriate time for seduction.

An uncertain smile formed on Edward's lips as he crossed the grand hall.

It was hard to concentrate on the thoughts around himself, distracted as he was. Controlling his lust was taking almost as much effort as fighting his blood thirst.

Restraint was hard to practise, especially knowing that Isabella wasn't going to reject his advances, but he didn't want put strain on her. She was human, and she was injured as well.

Besides, there was the nagging worry… of Isabella's blood. What if she bled again? Would he be able to stand it this time? Would he be able to enjoy the intimacy with her the way he wanted to?

Alice had reassured him through her thoughts. She was particularly focused on Isabella's safety, even though it meant seeing some rather private visions of her future. Obviously, Edward had felt very exposed and embarrassed under his sister's constant scrutiny.

Yet, there was no other way for Alice to ensure that Isabella's future held no trouble. It was the usual way with Alice since she was very protective of her family. Nothing was hidden from her, just the way nothing could be kept from Edward… except for Isabella's thoughts.

Edward shook his head ruefully as he thought about his inability to read Isabella's mind. How he'd love to have a mechanism to listen to her thoughts when he wanted, and then go back to the welcome silence when he was done.

By the time he reached his study, a middle-aged man was already waiting for him, alongside Charles. Edward gathered his particulars from his mind—Arnold Warren, a man in the know of the real estate of both Clallam County and the neighbouring Jefferson County.

His thoughts, which had been confident up till now, became abruptly nervous as Edward approached him. Being near a predator doesn't make one feel very comfortable.

Arnold had been summoned here by Charles, on Edward's demand. Clallam County, especially the area around Big Prairie, was a dull place, and Edward wanted to explore the lands beyond it.

To a vampire, all this effort was needless, but to Edward, it was something he couldn't just leave aside. Ever since he parted ways with the Cullens, there was nothing left with him that would keep him stable. And he didn't want to become an aimless wanderer the way some of his immortal acquaintances were.

Being a proprietor gave him the satisfaction of being more than just a bloodsucking immortal. It filled the void of his solitary existence, much like the other material things he had acquired throughout the century.

And now his charade of being an enterprising landowner was helping him in another way. Edward could pretend to be human enough for his wife, providing her with a home and all of its luxuries. He wanted to give her more…

"Yes, gentlemen, let us begin," he proposed as he sat down in his chair, his ears still fixated on Isabella's movements upstairs.

"Sir, there is this particular region close to the county perimeter that y-you might be interested in. I was thinking—I mean… perhaps, you'd like to take a tour," said Arnold in a shaky voice.

Edward observed the locale in his thoughts and recognised it immediately. He had often gone out for a hunt in the region.

"I thought you were going to suggest me something from the Jefferson County, perhaps?" His eyes narrowed, and the two men cowered into their seats.

"Y-Yes, of course, Sir, but we thought that this was worth suggesting," Arnold stammered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Then why not suggest Lake Pleasant to me?"

Arnold's nervous mind had let slip a sliver of information. The Fords, a wealthy landowning family of the area, were already coveting Lake Pleasant. And Edward couldn't resist throwing the gauntlet.

"Lake Pleasant?" Arnold repeated in surprise. "But Sir, that is—"

"I know that it is available," Edward smiled knowingly, "and I am keen on buying the entire locale, regardless of whoever else is eyeing it."

"But the Fords have been given the word…"

"Not on paper. I want to tour the lands."

The discourse didn't last long. Edward was suggested a few locales from the neighbouring Jefferson County as well, which he decided to consider in the future.

He decided to observe Lake Pleasant during the day, with the intent of having its possession by the time darkness fell.

Edward entrusted Charles with the charge of overseeing the various formalities of the purchase while he would tour the land.

Isabella had eaten her breakfast by then, so he hurried upstairs to inform her of his departure.

She was sitting by her window, looking out into the back gardens. He pulled her up and made her sit on the window frame. His lips dragged across her cheek while he explained his designs to her.

"Lake… Pleasant?" she asked dazedly as he shifted to her neck, taking in her sweet fragrance slowly, achingly. "Why would you want to acquire a lake?"

He moved back and shrugged, rather surprised at her question. "It's a beautiful location."

"Would you plant orchards there?" Her face lightened up then, and he surmised that she was fond of orchards.

"Would you like me to?"

Isabella gave him a curious look. "Well, orchards are pretty."

He nodded and then proceeded to kiss her in earnest. The burn and ache of her tantalizing scent didn't bother him any more, for it was forgotten in her inviting softness and warmth.

Soon, Lake Pleasant was to be shrouded with orchards. It wasn't a profitable venture, but it was what Isabella desired.

Isabella regarded the maidservant, Margot, as she changed the bed covers and fluffed the pillows on her bed. She was systematic and efficient, well-groomed to become a charwoman.

Isabella wondered how Edward had procured her services, and those of the rest of the house staff, in this godforsaken place.

"Margot," she called softly, summoning her attention, "how long have you been working at the manor?"

Margot gave her a questioning look but answered her all the same, "For about two months now, ma'am."

Isabella nodded, deep in thought. "And the rest of the house staff, if I may ask?"

"Of course, ma'am. All of us had been hired from Seattle," the maid supplied, "by Mrs. Whitlock."

"Hmm…" Isabella tapped her fingers on the ledge, her thoughts focussed on the past. "Do you happen to know the fate of the previously hired staff? I don't see any of them lately."

Margot frowned in concentration, and Isabella had to wait a minute for an answer.

"I never got to interact with them. I am presuming that they were relieved of their services." Margot smiled apologetically.

Isabella left Margot to her work then and picked up the book she had been reading since morning. Reading reminded her of her late aunt's script, which she had left at her uncle's home.

A part of her wanted to ask Charles to bring the draft to her, but then she felt uneasy in asking for it. He didn't need a reminder of the pain of his wife's death. Isabella felt hesitant about broaching the subject.

Moreover, her subconscious became unquiet every instance she tried to read it through.

Margot left the room shortly after, informing Isabella that she would be in the next room doing her routine tasks.

In inquiring her, Isabella had wanted to know about Edward's general habits, long before she had acquainted herself with him. His mystifying persona left her curious, and his proximity often had her stunned. She was suddenly having the urge to know him better, but in indirect ways.

She had originally sought Alice, but she only gave her vague answers. And then again, Edward sometimes interrupted… which made her only more curious.

Isabella sighed and put the book back in its place because she certainly wasn't able to concentrate on the print. It surprised her that she could be interested in a book.

Lately, Edward had gained precedence over all of her usual distractions. Now, she even found his temper as entertaining, the pout of his lips and the crease of his brow being the most prominent.

And then the way his hands brought her intimate pleasure…

A rush of heat flowed to her cheeks as she thought of his attentive mannerisms and his ardent, lingering touches. Isabella clutched the sides of her dress and closed her eyes; an attempt to distract herself from the thoughts of her husband.

Waiting for him to return was going to be a tedium.

* * *

**This chapter is continued in the next chapter heading. For submitting a review, click review for the next chapter, not this one. There's some glitch in this one. Sorry.**


	18. Chapter 17 cont

_**Continued...**_

* * *

Edward returned home long after dark. It didn't take much effort on his part to take possession of the desired land.

Intimidation often acted as a form of persuasion. An extra bushel of money helped, too.

As he entered the hallway, the shuffling and hobbling from the grand hall caught his attention. Who would be loitering around at this hour… whom else but Isabella.

Her defiance baffled him, for he had expressly told her not to move about until her foot was better.

Silent as a feline, he snuck up to her and watched her actions intently. She was eating an apricot while observing her foot on the first step of the staircase.

"Did you forget about your promise?" he uttered loudly from behind, making her whole body quake.

She lost her balance and fell back against him, the apricot rolling off her fingers and onto the floor. His hands were on her waist already, turning her around to face him.

"Edward," she gasped, her eyes wide. "You… scared me."

"You deserved it." He peered at her with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing here? I told you not to—"

"I was hungry," she replied quickly, denying him the chance to repeat his orders. "And my foot feels just fine."

He moved away from her and crossed his arms over his chest. "Then stand on your sprained foot only."

She glowered at him and stumbled back to lean against the carved banister. Edward waited for her, certain that she wouldn't be able to do what he had just asked her to.

Isabella winced as she shifted her weight on her injured foot, and Edward had his answer.

"It is… a little tender," she admitted but then returned to her prior defence, "But I'm feeling much better. And I can walk normally."

He raised his eyebrows in challenge, and she pried her eyes away from him.

"I wanted to eat some apricots," she said, pointing at the half-eaten fruit lying close to her feet. "They were downstairs, so…"

"Why did you send the house staff away?"

"I didn't need them."

It was Edward's turn to glower at her. Her face became defiant then as he moved towards her again.

"May I ask what took you so long?" she blurted quite irately, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Isabella's tendency to ask the most unexpected questions was beginning to bother him.

In faux nonchalance, he bent down and picked up the apricot. Isabella stared at him with curious eyes as he went to the kitchen to throw it away.

"Negotiations, Bella," he replied finally after he was back from the kitchen, a bowl full of apricots in his hands. "There were other coveters as well, for the land I desired to procure. I had to subjugate their efforts."

A small smirk lightened her face as he explained how he bought, or rather snatched one Lake Pleasant away from the Fords.

"Quite a terror you must have caused," she said, turning for the stairs.

He wondered if she was being merely jocular with her quip.

"Well, do I terrorize people?" he asked, clutching her wrist and pulling her back towards him.

Isabella's expression changed, her eyes becoming wary. "It depends," she said softly, "on your mood. But yes, you can be very menacing when you want to be."

"Do I terrorize _you_?" He looked deeply into her brown eyes, already dreading the approaching reply.

Her breaths came out in slow, shallow exhales as she returned his gaze. "Sometimes, yes."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Oh…?" Her tone was challenging, mocking even.

She was just in her indignation; his intimidating ways hadn't always been unintentional, especially not with her. Yet he felt justified in his means, because that was the only way he could have her.

So he approached her with caution and humour. "I apologise, for doing it both intentionally and inadvertently."

Her curious gaze didn't change.

"Are these for me?" she asked after a moment's silence, nodding towards the apricots.

Edward sighed at her crafty evasion. "Yes, weren't you hungry?"

"You scared the hunger away," she shrugged, slyly attempting to pull her hand out of his grip.

"You broke your promise," he accused, placing the bowl on the banister to free his other hand. An urge to smoothen her tangled hair was growing within him.

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him, full of silent accusations. "I didn't even realize when, or what I promised."

He couldn't hide the impish smile that broke across his face.

"Are you thinking of distracting me again?" she dared him, her voice lowering into a whisper, a hint of a blush forming on her cheeks.

Without another word spoken, she was lifted off the floor and thrown over his shoulder.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise—the desired reaction on his part.

Edward seized the apricots and carried Isabella upstairs to his room effortlessly. She didn't utter a single noise of protest, and that had him amazed.

Once safely deposited on the bed, she watched him warily as he handed her the precious bowl of apricots. She settled the bowl in her lap and stared at it as though there was nothing more fascinating than the foul-smelling fruits it held.

Her heart was palpitating with an ever-increasing beat, a music he would never get tired of. Yet, he knew why she was suddenly edgy.

"Bella," he prompted her to look at him as he sat down beside the bed, taking her injured foot in his hands. "I'm sorry…"

There was nothing else he could say to articulate his intentions better. He had hurt her the last time she had graced his room with her presence.

Isabella closed her eyes and shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. You were in pain as well. I'm just… displeased that you kept the truth from me."

Edward flinched. Suddenly, truth had become his greatest nemesis.

"Edward?" she reached for his hand, her eyes conveying understanding for his pain… for a lie. "I don't pity you, and I don't see you with a jaundiced eye. I'm rather relieved to know the truth, otherwise… I kept wondering."

He brought her hand to his lips and planted a reprieved, thankful kiss on her knuckles. Words wouldn't do justice to the sentiments he felt. Isabella was forgiving and kind.

"And, I wanted to apologise as well." Isabella picked up an apricot and rolled it in her hand.

"For what?"

"For not acknowledging you as my family."

A sudden rush of warmth flooded his dead heart, a feeling so foreign that he was amazed at its intensity.

"It happens," he smiled, planting another kiss on her delicate fingers. "Perhaps with time, you'll miss me too."

"Why would I miss you?" she wondered aloud, returning his smile with her own. "You only miss the ones who are away from you."

Her ever-present wit lightened the moment, and Edward was thankful that he had her. "You are right. I don't think I can stay away from you."

She curled her fingers around his and attempted to draw him to her. He acquiesced, knowing how impossible it would be for her to accomplish it.

He pulled her into his lap as he climbed into the bed, ignoring the fire that raged in his throat as he kissed her.

All caution was forgotten as Isabella's warm and inviting mouth pulled him in. The kiss distracted Edward from his initial hesitance and worry, leading to a situation where Isabella was lying on top of him, cradled in his arms.

"The apricots," he muttered breathlessly against her lips, feeling the need to throw the offending fruits away, if not for her hunger's sake.

The bowl was now lying upside down on their bed, the apricots scattered around them.

Isabella paid no heed to his words. She just squirmed against him and shifted to nuzzle his neck, her rapid, hot breaths creating a cloud of her scent around him.

Edward was unable to form a coherent thought.

His hands were gripping her nightgown around her waist, the cloth too delicate to stand the strain. He could hear the strands straining and coming apart.

The slow ripping noise alerted Isabella, and she gasped when she looked down.

"You… tore my nightdress," she mumbled numbly, gaping at his hands, which were still holding the shreds.

Enough apologies had been made tonight, and Edward didn't care to repeat them again. Isabella was still looking dazedly at the tatters when he nudged her on her back and settled above her.

Her trembling hands clutched his shoulders as he claimed all of her exposed skin with his lips. The flames in his throat craved the balm of her blood, pulsing just beneath the surface of her creamy skin. They were denied.

When one of his roaming hands encountered an apricot, he was reminded of her human needs.

He grabbed the fruit and brought it to her lips. She stared at him in surprise but didn't bite, which frustrated him.

"Eat." he nudged the fruit between her lips, and she shook her head.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she protested, trying to shove the fruit away.

"Please," he whispered in a pleading, yearning voice. That seemed to weaken her stance.

Edward watched with carnal interest as she nibbled and sucked at the juicy flesh of the apricot. Some of its juice trickled down her chin and across her neck, but he didn't care to wipe it. Another apricot was offered to her once she finished with the first.

Her eyes remained locked with his as she ate, the passion flowing between them without restraint.

Full with five apricots, Isabella refused to eat any more. Edward traced her juice-coated lips with his thumb, marvelling at the silken feel of them. He dove in for another kiss, the taste of apricots not tasting at all awful on her saccharine mouth.

Isabella breathed into him, and his throat constricted with burning thirst. Restraint was excruciating as he struggled to contain his hunger for her. But Isabella was not to be hurt, not in the very least. She was to be pleased…

More shredding ensued as Edward channelled his frustration on her clothes. A muffled, uneasy giggle escaped her lips, and then she shivered as his hands reacquainted themselves with her glorious body.

_Cold_… Edward blanched, remembering how his skin must feel to her. But then a string of heavy breaths escaped her, overwhelming his senses while her hands pulled him closer to her.

He didn't want to leave her warmth…

Isabella soon ran out of breath, so he left her mouth and latched onto her bosom. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as he parted her legs. A growl threatened to break loose from within him as his fingers pressed into her familiar heat.

Her hands gripped his hair as he pleasured her slowly. He was enjoying each of her responses, especially the soft cries that escaped her lips.

"Heaven, Bella…" he breathed into her chest as he felt her body tightening in knots.

Her eyes opened and stared back at him, desire merging with disorientation. He was sure he looked the same to her.

With his name on her lips, Isabella's whole frame convulsed with pleasure. Edward would never tire of seeing her in the throes of ecstasy… he couldn't find anything more beautiful in that moment.

* * *

Isabella's eyes were clenched shut in bliss… and in apprehension.

She was aware of the various sounds whispering around her, but she chose to ignore them and lie dormant. The creaking bed, the rustling of clothes, and the even breaths of her husband gave her ample indication of what lay ahead.

Flushes of heat and drafts of cold lapped at her in turns as she thought of the approaching intimacy.

It was an essential part of a couple's shared life, pleasurable even. Yet, Isabella couldn't fight the sudden panic that was rising in her chest.

She had encountered pain the previous time Edward was intimate with her. It could very well end in the same terrible way…

A light stroke on her cheek prompted her to open her eyes.

Edward was gazing at her with a look so fervent; she thought she might melt like beeswax. His dark, hooded eyes were conveying everything that his silence wasn't.

He didn't want to hurt her, he wanted intimacy and conjugal bliss.

She would try… perhaps it would hurt a bit, but try she would. The assurance given by Alice, that pleasure would follow the initial struggle, was her only hope.

Slow and tentative, anxious yet attentive, Edward pressed into her, his eyes growing darker as he sank within her.

Her body resisted to adjust, and Isabella fisted the bed sheets as the stinging pain grew between her legs. She closed her eyes and willed herself to endure.

Above her, Edward groaned and shuddered, but he didn't hasten his approach. Isabella was thankful for that.

"Is it… is it hurting?" he asked in a strangulated voice as another shudder passed through him.

Her eyes flew open, staring straight into Edward's charcoal irises. The strange quaking of his body travelled into hers, and she gasped… in unmistakable pleasure.

"Uh!" she uttered in surprise as the delicious sensation grew and overshadowed the pain.

And then she felt him retreating, with muffled mutterings on his lips. So she did what instinct told her to; she let go of the sheets and seized his neck.

"Edward," she whispered, trying to pull him back with as much strength as she possessed in the moment. "No… don't leave."

He responded with a questioning expression, his eyes blinking rapidly. It appeared as though he was struggling to comprehend her words, or even her actions. And she couldn't be certain, but he seemed to be in pain as well.

Another attempt to draw him back to her, and at long last he relented.

She crushed her lips to his cold ones, warming them with her heated breaths as her entire self wrapped around him, accepting him within her and adjusting to him.

He stayed still for a long time, murmuring to himself mostly. Isabella was thankful for the effort on his part, even though she hardly understood the struggle.

It was a bizarre experience, the feeling of being joined with another, sensing each of his movements as though he were a part of her.

Slowly, Edward came alive again. His lips carved their own path on her, and she found herself enjoying how they felt on her skin. Special attention was paid to her neck, with his tongue making meaningless designs on it.

The pleasure grew, numbing the pain, giving Isabella the first glimpse of connubial delights. She trembled uncontrollably as a sweet, tantalizing anticipation grew inside her, stronger than when Edward's fingers had pleasured her.

Edward's frame was shaking again, his head nodding sideways as though he sought some sort of relief. Their eyes locked once more, and suddenly, Isabella saw something else in his expression.

He was glowering, just the same as that pain-filled night she had truly forgotten by now. Disturbed, she closed her eyes and mumbled his name, hoping to erase her mind off the troubling thoughts.

Then, as his movements became more frenzied, she held on tightly to his shoulders, ignoring the rumbling noises coming from his chest.

"Bella, I'm losing myself…" he growled in her ear as he buried his head into the pillows. "Warm, no ugh, no!"

His words became incomprehensible and muddled then as they moved together, staccato and out of breath.

His hands were clutching her in a vicelike grip, fingers digging into her skin. But she hardly noticed, for she was soaring to a peak of aching pleasure.

All sensations merged into each other, and she could no longer tell where one began or where the other ended. It was blinding, like seeing a bright sun emerging from behind the clouds…

For what seemed like an eternity, neither of them moved.

Relief… wonder… pride… exhaustion… all had a claim on Isabella. Somewhere, something had changed within her. Her relationship with Edward had achieved a new definition.

Edward freed himself from the confines of her arms and shifted to her side. After all the passionate embraces they had just shared, this moment felt awkward and strange.

Isabella deliberately didn't meet his gaze, owing to shyness.

"Bella," he murmured softly in her ear, "are you feeling fine?"

"Yes." An involuntary yawn broke through her lips. Her eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, making her vision bleary.

She heard him sigh and wondered how he may be feeling. She was suddenly very timid of asking him the same.

"Sleep," he whispered, as he pulled a quilt over them her like a cocoon.

His slow, even breaths were like a reassuring lullaby, and soon enough, Isabella slipped into a deep slumber.

* * *

Edward appraised Isabella in the misty morning light while she slept like the dead, unaware of his gaze. He had worn her out last night, and he was remorseless for it.

Pride was the only dominant emotion in him in this moment, with traces of affection towards his wife. He had coped well; the bloodlust was overcome.

It wouldn't be as difficult to administer control as it had been up till now. He had learnt the art of channelling and deflecting his bloodlust last night.

Isabella stirred and turned on her back, but nothing in her movement served to rouse her. She hadn't moved at all during the night, sleeping curled up to one side. Edward had ventured out for a hunt during the night, taken a bath afterwards, but she had slept just the same.

As the morning matured, Edward thought about waking her up, but something in her serene expression kept him from doing so. Before leaving her side, he leaned into her neck and took a deep breath, inhaling her rich scent, now mixed with his.

One long breath was not enough, and he found himself craving more after each gulp. Of all his actions, this one brought Isabella out of her slumber.

Her eyes blinked a few times as she took notice of her surroundings, looking disoriented and beautiful.

"Edward?" she uttered his name as a query, her voice garbled with sleep.

"Yes, Bella," he responded, tentative yet smug, courting a wide smile.

"Ummmhh…" she seemed confused, "why am I covered in feathers?" She sat up, conscious to clutch the quilt to her chest, and brushed a few white fluffs off herself.

His smile faded.

"Well, you're not covered in them," he tried to explain, feeling flustered. "Only a few here and there…"

He had forgotten about the feathers, the ones that had slipped out of the pillow he had bitten in the throes of passion.

Isabella didn't seem satisfied with his half-hearted explanation. He didn't know what to say… since telling her that he bit the pillows to save her wouldn't be very wise.

"Did you…" she blushed scarlet as she spoke, "shred a pillow as well?"

"I may have," he replied noncommittally. "How are you feeling?"

As if her blush wasn't scarlet enough, she reddened further. "I think I'm… fine."

A look of uncertainty crossed her features, but it faded as soon as it had appeared. Her silent mind taunted him just like that because, like usual, he had not a whiff of her thoughts.

She looked out the window, and her nose creased in what seemed like… displeasure. He worried what might have caused her mood to change.

"I slept too long," she confessed, alleviating his uneasiness at her expression. "Angela will be here soon, along with Mrs. Webber."

Edward raised an eyebrow, surprised that she hadn't mentioned the visiting party to him up until now. "Why?"

Isabella's eyes regarded him curiously. "Because she is a friend?"

"Oh." He had to constantly remind himself of her social life, something he didn't possess on his own.

"She wanted to see if my foot was any better." Isabella shook her head slightly. "A messenger came by yesterday while you were visiting Lake Pleasant, carrying her long drawn letter to me."

Edward nodded, although he didn't understand the need for a letter. Angela could have come by herself. Then again, humans had strange ways.

"I'll let you get ready, then," he said, moving out of the bed and towards the door. "And I'll send Margot in to assist you."

Isabella sighed unwillingly. "I'm all right. I don't need help. Please, Edward?"

He had to relent because her expression was too beseeching to be ignored. But he kept a close scrutiny through his supreme hearing, observing her movements for any signs of distress. The resultant effect of expanding his hearing range was that the entire manor clamoured inside his head, with various thoughts and noises he'd block otherwise.

Edward winced and groaned in pain for the next hour, suffering for the sake of Isabella's safety. And he thanked the heavens when she finally emerged from her room, her face still holding the blush of an hour ago.

The Webbers arrived soon after.

Greetings and pleasantries were earnestly exchanged, some polite conversations were initiated. Edward was learning to act more human once again.

Isabella was watching him with a keen eye while he interacted with the guests. He would brush his fingers against hers from time to time, seeking the comfort of her touch. And even though she sat awkwardly next to him, quiet in her mannerisms, her tell-tale flushes let him know how she felt.

Angela seemed to notice the change in their demeanours, surprising Edward with her attentive human mind. To her, Isabella seemed happy and content… glowing even.

Edward's lifeless heart soared with delight.

"Angela was very insistent on seeing you, Isabella," Mrs. Webber commented fondly, "she still feels responsible for your sprained ankle."

The memory of Isabella's fall came forth in Angela's mind, and Edward finally had the opportunity to see the exact events of that day.

Along with her clumsy stumbling, he saw her saviour. Edward remembered that face, and even the name attached to it. Begrudgingly, he had to accept Alice's speculation—that the Quileute boy had done him kindness by saving Isabella from a deadly fall.

"Oh, I'm fine, it's not much of a problem," Isabella assured in a timid voice, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Edward has been very attentive. He didn't let me put strain on my foot, so it has healed rather quickly."

"I am assuming that you couldn't move around much?" Mrs. Webber enquired, feeling compassionate.

Isabella nodded and peeked at Edward. "I stayed in my room most of the time."

"But didn't it get dreary for you," Angela wondered, feeling forlorn by the thought of it, "I don't think I would have stayed put."

"It did get dreary…" Isabella frowned, "when Edward wasn't there."

"Oh?" Angela was surprised by her honesty. "Which means… he kept you distracted from your pain."

Mrs. Webber's thoughts turned disapproving towards her daughter, as did her glare. Angela, though, wasn't bothered. She was feeling ecstatic for Isabella.

"We played chess," Edward lied, to keep Isabella from turning bright red.

"Of course," Angela grinned, her mind conjuring a few rather impish impressions on his part.

Isabella glowed bright red regardless. Edward had to suppress a chuckle.

He gave Angela a warm smile, knowing how much relief she felt to see that Isabella was well taken care of.

Tea was served shortly, giving Isabella a chance to avoid the prying eyes of the two visiting ladies.

"How is Mr. Webber doing?" Edward asked then, to deviate the conversation away from Isabella, since she was looking extremely self-conscious. "I would have liked if he had accompanied you two."

The answer to that question wasn't what he was expecting.

"Oh, he's not here. He has gone out of Clallam County," Mrs. Webber replied somberly, "to see his relative, Mr. Crawford, from whom we haven't heard in months."

Angela's thoughts became rather irate, but she wasn't the focus of Edward's attention in that moment. All he saw was Isabella, her suddenly stiffened shoulders and quivering hands. The teacup in her hand rattled, prompting him to take it from her.

"He hasn't replied to any of our letters, so we were a bit worried for him," Mrs. Webber continued, oblivious to Isabella's edginess.

"But mother, he travels a lot," Angela muttered, her narrowed eyes silently communicating with her mother. They both knew why and to where Henry travelled the most. "Perhaps that's why he couldn't reply…?"

"There's no harm in checking on him," Mrs. Webber countered coolly.

The silence that followed was so claustrophobic, Edward felt like he actually needed some relieving air.

Angela noticed Isabella's nervous mannerisms. "Issy, are you all right?"

Isabella glanced at Edward as she replied, telling Angela that she was fine. Edward gave her a reassuring smile, but deep down a fear lurked inside his conscience.

Isabella was so greatly affected by a mere reminder that this man, who had assaulted her at one point, was dead. How would she react if she ever got to know that Edward had killed him, and that too with utmost brutality?

The thought filled Edward with unease, prompting him to block it. Besides, he was certain that she would never discover the truth about Henry's death.

Angela's mind was still not settled since Isabella appeared to be growing paler. Edward could see her getting suspicious, so he tried to end the impromptu tea party.

"Well," he began, turning his persuasive gaze towards the two visitors, "I think Bella here needs some rest." Standing up with an air of finality, he gave the subtle indication that the visit was over.

Isabella seemed frozen in her place, but as Angela came up to give her a parting kiss, she reciprocated with a faint smile.

When the Webbers left, Isabella insisted on staying in the grand hall only, citing a needful change in surroundings. Edward relented but not before giving her a piece of his mind.

"Bella, what is the matter with you?" You act as though you've seen a ghost any instance anyone happens to mention that—" he paused, reining his anger in, for he didn't want to scare her again, "…you know who."

Isabella peered at him with guilty eyes. "I'm sorry, I—"

He raised his hand in the air, effectively halting her unnecessary apologising.

"You will not dwell upon that incident, do you listen to me?" he demanded. "Not anymore, Bella. I will not tolerate it."

She nodded, her eyes beginning to tear up. Edward disliked the tears, for he essentially didn't know how to handle crying humans.

He decided he needed to leave the manor for sometime, to let his rage burn through him in the surroundings of a deep forest. Besides the rage, there was also a feeling of dread to be dealt with.

* * *

_**Do let me know how their real first time was (old timey lemons and all that Jazz). ;P  
**_

I wanted to share this bit of good new with ya'll. My entry-**Danse Macabre** won the 2nd place in the **Darkward Vampfic Contest**. So I thank you all for supporting it. I'll be continuing it later, sometime in Jan.

Also, the nomination time for the _**Eddies and Bellies**_ has begun. Go and nom your favourite stories. - www[dot]thecatt[dot]net

To interact with the mommy of these awards(WTVOC) and other lovelies, visit - **www[dot]adifferentforest[dot]com**. I often hang around there for fun times.

And if you love all vampire fiction, check out - **myvampfiction[dot]com  
**

**NOTES**-

Lake Pleasant is an actual location. Yeah, well, its privately owned, so there goes my disclaimer on Edward's claim. Lol

The expression 'Jaundiced eye' - It was once believed persons suffering from the medical condition jaundice saw everything as yellow. By extension, the jaundiced eye came to mean a prejudiced view, usually rather negative or critical.

**IF ANYONE IS HAVING ISSUES WITH REVIEWING, THEN KINDLY PM ME.**


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or any of its characters, and I don't intend to publish my work of fantasy in a changed format just to gain some $$$$. :-P

**A/N:** I initially wrote it as one huge ass chapter, but that was taking a lot of time to form. So, instead I posted a part of it now. The rest will follow in a about a week.

Thanks for all those enquiring PMs and reviews. If I was unable to reply to any of them, then I'll reply here -** I'm not quitting**. Yes, life has me in a tough spot right now, but that doesn't mean that I'll flounce. I must tell you guys that I try to write as much as I can with whatever free time I can squeeze in between my studies and other shit happening in RL. So you guys can breathe easy on that account. **I'll complete this fic**, and others as well. Stay with me, and trust me please. Kay?

Now, finally yet importantly, _**if you're under 18 years old, just refrain from reading this story. It's not meant for minors**_. Thanks.

* * *

Day gave way to dusk, light to darkness, but still, Edward was not home. An annoyed sigh escaped Isabella's lips as she stood by the window, gazing at the vast expanse of greenery and the approaching shadows.

She was not pleased. If she was feeling rueful in the morn regarding her want for disclosure of Henry's death, she was now growing impatient with her husband's fits of unsolicited rage.

She understood his ire, even feeling the same when she remembered the incident of Henry's untoward behaviour. Alas, it was a waste of breath on a dead man.

Isabella felt for the Webbers, for they didn't know the truth. Guilt plagued her for keeping it from them. She wished to relieve herself of the burden, but she knew Edward wouldn't be in agreement.

Henry was dead, and what he attempted with her was never concluded. His death wasn't the result of his misdemeanours toward her; it was in no manner related to her or to his sinister designs.

He died of an animal attack, from what the Sherriff had mentioned. Why it still bothered Edward enough to keep it a secret, she did not know.

A faint rustling from behind caught her attention, and she turned around to find Edward staring back at her, impassive and mystifying.

"Oh, you've returned." She regarded him coolly, wondering why she couldn't hear his approach at all. "To what do I owe the good fortune of having your company?"

Her sardonic words caused him to flinch and avert his eyes. Isabella turned around and gingerly placed her palms on the ledge, wishing to disregard Edward's presence.

However, it was one thing to ignore him from a distance and completely another to try the same when his hands were creeping along her waist.

"Your ire is not misplaced," he murmured against her shoulder, pulling her flush against him. "It was very uncouth of me to leave your side this morning. And I apologise for being so crass."

"You've been apologising a lot lately. I wonder why…" she commented, attempting her mighty best to appear impassive towards his loving gestures and regretful words.

"Bella, I feel terrible, utterly contrite for what I did," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'm not above begging for your forgiveness. Forgive me?"

He turned his face towards her and repeated his apology once again. His whispering lips and batting eyelashes tickled her skin while his penitent voice tugged at her heart.

He could disarm her so easily; it was terrifying in its own way.

"I feel awful for lying to the Webbers. They deserve to know…" she argued after he finished with his litany of apologies. Her voice was losing its earlier conviction and indignation.

"You haven't lied to them," he responded good-humouredly, pressing a light peck on her neck.

She closed her eyes, feeling her entire self respond to the slightest of his movements.

"I'm keeping the truth from them, and that is as bad as lying. Mr.—" she spoke hesitantly, "—Crawford is not coming back to harass me. Why should I be bothered then?"

He stiffened behind her, giving the impression that he was again in the grips of his volatile temper.

Isabella let out a frustrated breath, narrowing her eyes at the ancient forest as though it had offended her. "Before you storm off again, may I know when you will return? I prefer to not be kept on tenterhooks regarding your shifting moods."

Her chest felt lighter after she finished voicing her disapproval.

She waited for a response, convinced that he would be upset, though she wasn't terrified of him… not anymore.

Instead, she felt his cool lips on her neck again, tender in their approach.

"I'm sorry, the morning incident won't ever be repeated. I'll behave," he promised as his hands began a slow ascent from her waist. It was a pleasant surprise to not see him being surly on this matter.

Isabella was glad that he wasn't trying to assert himself for once.

"How can I be assured of your… repentance?" she mumbled disjointedly, her mind giving into the carnal instincts he was evoking.

"Well, I think I know a way." His hands rose up to her bosom, mirroring the blush that rose up her cheeks.

All the apprehension of their first night returned, and Isabella tensed as he deftly unbuttoned her nightdress.

"Bella… " he uttered her name as a plea, "may I?"

Did she want intimacy so soon again?

He _had_ given her an option, a choice to reject his advances. It was up to her to decide.

"Are you in pain?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with apprehension and concern. He hands were immediately withdrawn. "I—I won't, I'm—"

"Edward," she spoke loudly, successfully halting his fumbling words. "I'm not. I just… I just want assurance. I must tell you that I was very upset with you. Don't think me frivolous about my stance."

She wanted to turn around and see his face, but she was convinced that it would only serve to dissuade her from confronting him.

"Bella, I promise," he said, hugging her close. "I regret my actions thoroughly. Am I forgiven?"

"For now." She nodded, and soon enough, his enthusiastic hands returned.

The cool night breeze caressed her through her camisole as her nightgown slipped to the floor. Her body couldn't help but respond, tightening against the thin fabric, summoning her husband's attention.

"So beautiful, Bella," he sighed, trapping her slight frame in his arms, "so enchanting."

She giggled in anticipation as he dragged her backward, towards her bed.

Her shaky hands snaked around his neck as he kissed her, pulling her over him as he lay on his back.

She squirmed against him, feeling his desire press between her legs as he unabashedly removed her remaining clothes.

Edward moved from underneath her in order to undress himself. This time, she gathered the courage to truly look at him while he did so.

Her cheeks felt feverishly hot as she gazed at him, committing his glorious form to memory. It was the first time she was regarding him in such an intimate way, very unlike their first night together.

She was afraid and unsure then, of the unknown that loomed ahead. It was somehow easier to assimilate it now.

As he mounted the bed again, an urge to touch and feel him grew within her. She wanted to explore him, just the way a voyager wanted to explore paradise. Explorers had so far been unsuccessful in finding a real paradise, but Isabella had evidently found hers.

Her tentative hands reached to caress his broad shoulders as he neared her. He smiled as she did so, making him even more attractive than he already was.

"I'm all yours," he affirmed as her hands roamed his chest and below, as if he could understand her hesitancy.

She was in awe of his physical perfection, but she still didn't feel bold enough to state it openly.

He kissed her neck again and moved down to explore more of her skin, more at leisure this time, letting his tongue wander along her curves in nameless patterns.

Words weren't spoken again, for they weren't required. They let their bodies speak for themselves.

Isabella reclined on her back to admit Edward above her. She revelled in his attentive touches, slowly loosening her hold on her reserve and modesty.

She was shocked at her resultant cries of pleasure, for she never expected her well-mannered self to utter such brazen sounds of pure abandon. Edward seemed to enjoy disarming her; she could hear his accompanying chuckles and sighs.

Often, her hands brushed against him, and she heard him groan. She surmised her hands to have the same affect as his had between her legs.

Edward's rough sounds of pleasure mingled with hers as their aching bodies slowly came together.

Edward shuddered the same as before, sending sweet sensations from her head to toe. Her sweltering body warmed his cold one as they attuned to each other, much better than their first night together.

Isabella drowned in the ensuing carnal ecstasy, surrendering to the baser instincts that her husband summoned from within her.

* * *

Shivering against the night breeze, Isabella awoke in her bed and pulled the duvet up to her neck. Her hands perused the rest of her bed, searching for her husband, but he wasn't there.

She curled into herself to keep warm, her eyes trying to peer into the pitch-black darkness of her room. For a brief moment, she wondered if Edward had gone back to his room to sleep properly.

The thought left a bad taste in her mouth.

A few more minutes passed, and Isabella became restless. When all the tossing and turning served no good, she decided to go look for Edward.

The darkness made it difficult for her to find her clothes. She didn't know where Edward had deposited them under the spell of frantic carnal desires.

A blush painted her cheeks as she rethought his loving caresses and kisses. Her need to be close to Edward again grew stronger with each passing moment.

Staggering towards the wide-open window, she came across her nightgown, strewn carelessly on the floor. Without another thought, she picked it up and pulled it on herself.

She fumbled out of her bedroom and down the hallway, without any lamp or taper stick to show her the way. The corridor was etched in her memory now, so it wasn't very difficult to trudge along.

The door to Edward's bedroom squeaked as she pushed it open. Stepping in, she made for the mammoth sized bed, in hopes that she would find him there.

Albeit, he wasn't.

At first, Isabella felt disappointed, but then she grew worried. Where was Edward at this ungodly hour?

She called him softly, gripping the bedpost anxiously. When she didn't hear any replies, she became restive.

"Edward? _Edward?_" Her calls became more and more frantic, but still… they earned no response.

She repeated his name like a prayer as she stepped back into the hallway, but he was nowhere to be found.

Being alone in an enormous mansion was not the most appealing thought. Isabella's voice grew panicked as she padded back and forth in the passage.

Suddenly, she heard a low thump from her bedroom and froze in her tracks. The sound was so minute that she would have missed it had it not been so quiet in the night.

Fear took its hold on her as she tried to decipher the noise. It sounded much the same as a cat landing from a high jump, feline and quiet.

Hence, she feared that it might be some kind of wild animal; even though it seemed very unlikely that any creature could jump so high up to her room or anywhere near it. Yet, she vied to be careful.

Creeping up to her bedroom door, she tried to peer inside cautiously through a sliver of an opening. It was dark, and she was unable to make any shape or form that appeared removed from her usual surroundings inside the room.

For a long moment, nothing happened; none of the shadows moved. Isabella refused to budge, and same as her, the bedroom remained deathly silent, with no sign of anything lurking inside.

Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest, so frantically that she thought it might break free.

When her anxiety became unbearable, she pushed the door further open and waited, for a beast, or a monster, or anything, to show.

Nothing…

The room was empty, that she much could gauge as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

She made for the window and immediately closed it shut, fearing something might leap into her room from the dark forest that lay ahead.

Just as she put the latch in place, strong arms grabbed her from behind.

Her fear-ridden shriek turned into shaky laughter the moment Edward nuzzled into her neck and murmured her name.

"Ah, there you are," he whispered hoarsely. "Did I scare you?"

"That would be a modest description of my state," she replied with a shudder, "I thought I would die of the fright you've given me! Don't do that again, ever!"

"I quite enjoyed seeing you so flustered," he confessed as his hands unabashedly slipped over her bosom.

"E-Edward," she reproached him playfully, attempting to bat his wicked hands away. He didn't budge, striving to play with her as he desired.

Giving up, she placed her palms against the closed window, her half-closed, lust filled eyes trained on the dark forest ahead. "Where were you? And why did you leave my side?"

"I was in the lavatory, but you didn't look there, did you?"

"No… I didn't see any candles lit inside."

"Why are you wearing this again?" he asked in between his indulgent kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"Hmm?" She wasn't sure she heard him correctly, as addled as her head felt under his spell.

"If it were up to me, I'd never let you wear any clothes, love," he elaborated audaciously, scandalizing her and tantalizing her all the same.

"Oh!" she exhaled heavily as he pulled her nightgown up, his cold hands brazenly claiming her uncovered flesh.

She nearly collapsed against him, but he steadied her and pushed her further to lean onto the window frame. When she tried to remove her hands from the glass pane, he stopped her.

Isabella was left confused, but then she hardly cared, for her body was singing to his every stroke, yearning for more. His touch set her skin ablaze, making her feel giddy with pleasure.

"Were you terrified when you awoke alone?" he asked, pulling her lower half back against his chest. "Were you afraid in the dark?"

As her flesh connected with his, she discovered that he was unclothed.

"I… I think I still am," she stuttered, her eyes wide with uncertainty and anticipation. She wondered what he was thinking, pinning her against this window and doing unmentionable things to her.

One of his hands snaked around her hips and dipped between her legs, making her whole self tremble.

"Yes," he hissed into her ear as his fingers explored her, "it seems like you're eager for me even when you're afraid."

"Ed… ward," she groaned and shook her head to collect her thoughts amid the haze of lust. "Wha-What are you _doing_?"

"Is that not obvious?" He appeared to have no intention to move her away from the window, and that was enough to fluster Isabella even more.

As much as she wanted to put forth a protest at being pinned against a window, her body seemed to ignore her rationale entirely. It swayed and moved in cadence to Edward's fingers, pliant to his every whim.

She knew what was to come then, if he continued to torment her the same.

All of this was unfamiliar, and she didn't know what would happen if she came apart standing on her two very unsteady feet.

And then Edward removed his hands off her, leaving her feeling relieved and discontented, at odds with her head and her body.

She attempted to remove her trembling hands from the window, and Edward actually helped her in doing so. But then his hands worked to remove her nightgown, pulling it off her in swift moves.

Isabella just stood there, gawping in utter surprise as his true intent was revealed.

Edward pressed her gently towards the window again, aligning his body to hers.

"Legs apart, please," he rasped, an earnest demand from a hungry man.

She acquiesced, despite feeling appalled at being taken against her bedroom window.

"But… the window, Edward," she moaned softly as he slipped into her, slow and tentative. "How can we… Oh! The _window_?"

His reply never came; instead, he set out to explore her bare back as they moved together, seeking harmony and rhythm.

Isabella's legs nearly gave under the assault of sensations, but Edward kept her stable within his powerful hold.

Her breath became obscenely loud as he unleashed his carnal force on her, overwhelming in its intensity. Her shaking hands clawed at the glass pane as his body pushed her to the brink of mounting pleasure.

In a flurry of raw sensations, Isabella came apart, moaning wantonly into the night, helpless to stop the intense waves.

Her legs wobbled, but Edward's enclosing arms kept her from slipping. He wasn't finished with her yet, his movements inside her never ceasing for even a breath.

Unexpectedly, another wave of extreme pleasure coursed through her, making her utter his name between her loud gasps. He answered her with his own rumbling moans.

Soon, Isabella stopped caring to be mannerly. She cried out in careless abandon as Edward claimed her relentlessly, again and again through the lightening night.

* * *

Sitting on a plush settee by her bed, Isabella was fiddling with her needlework when Edward entered her room. He skulked to the big bedroom window and leaned against it, his intent eyes fixed on her while she remained oblivious to his presence.

He appraised her while she worked, loving each of her face contortions as she struggled with the heavy embroidery pattern.

When her thread unexpectedly tangled into another, she closed her eyes and rubbed them in frustration. She wasn't good at needlework, and Edward couldn't fathom why she still bothered herself with the tedious task.

When she finally opened her eyes and spotted Edward, her face broke into a brilliant smile, complemented by a rosy blush. Edward's dead heart almost leapt to life.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said, and then added an afterthought, "I usually never do."

"Why embroidery?" he asked, changing the subject away from his deathly quiet movements.

"Oh, well… my sewing skills are lousy," she replied, hunching her shoulders and looking down at her handiwork. "I want to better it."

"Where in the world will you need this skill, my dear?" He shook his head at her stubborn attempts to change her muddled embroidery.

She tilted her head slightly as she watched him, her eyes narrowing. He smirked and brushed his fingertips on the windowsill, tapping the wood lightly.

Him and the windowsill; a fair reminder of their passionate nightly encounter. He had just returned from a hasty hunt, only to find her searching for him in the dark.

That was four days ago, and they had returned to his enormous bed since then. Yet, a reminder was all it took for him to set her heart aflutter.

A furious red blush washed over her face, and she pried her eyes away from him.

Edward swallowed hard, a mixture of lust and venom, as he kept a tight rein on his thirst. It had become much easier with time. He was determined to never let his monstrous side come out in front of her, never let the predator take over the affection he had for her.

"I cannot imagine why I'm not doing it right," she sighed, pulling him away from his silent cogitations. Once again, she was struggling to get her needle through the cloth. "My mother was brilliant at it."

"But you're not your mother; you're you, Bella, someone different from her, a separate entity," he muttered, unable to comprehend her need to compare herself to her mother.

She considered his words in silence as she chewed her lower lip, observing the hand-marked pattern on the cloth with a strange longing.

He crossed his arms and ruminated about her motivation to keep attempting a skill that she knew she wouldn't excel in. Yes, she might get better with time and practice, but alas, some talents were God-gifted.

Isabella raised her eyes to him, and to his astonishment, they were on the verge of tears.

Without thinking, he bolted across the room as fast as a human could and took hold of her face. "Bella? Did I say something harsh?" he asked fretfully, fearing the worst. "Please don't cry."

Unstoppable tears streamed down her eyes then, and she tried to look away. He held her face and didn't let her, repeating his requests to tell him the reason behind her watery eyes.

"I'm fine," she blubbered, closing her eyes. The motion only caused more tears to roll down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I take my words back, but please don't cry." Edward didn't know what else to say or how to make her feel better. Tears were so foreign to him, and he was at a loss on how to comfort a crying human.

"Bella, I'm apologising again here, please don't cry. Please just forget what I said."

And as suddenly as she had started crying, she began laughing, with strange hiccups and sniffs. Edward stared at her in bewilderment. He didn't know what to say, for his next words might make her react even more shockingly.

Finally, when the hiccups lessened, she smiled at him sheepishly. "You don't have to apologise, Edward, you weren't responsible for my nostalgic reflections."

He remained motionless with worry, holding her in his arms, waiting for her to say more.

"I just… I was remembering my time with my mother and father, before…" she trailed off, looking away again.

Edward had never really given a thought about her loss, which was inadvertently so similar to his own. How he wished he could have his parents with him again. How proud they would have been when he would have taken Isabella to meet them. He wasn't certain if Isabella wished the same for him, though.

"My mother was brilliant at embroidery," Isabella continued, breaking Edward's own nostalgic stupor. "She would have had no trouble in completing this pattern in just an hour. Time and again, she wished I would also learn to do the same, but I was always a lousy learner.

"But I did draw her the patterns. Yes, at least I was good at drawing these intricate patterns for her, which she would bring to life with her immaculate needlework." She rested her head against Edward's chest and sighed wistfully. He briefly worried that she might notice his missing heartbeat, but the urge to comfort her thwarted it.

"You love to draw," he said, and he wasn't asking her. "Did your mother also draw that well?"

She sniffled into his shirt and shook her head. "No, she wasn't inclined towards art. That was my obsession."

He smiled into her hair, picturing her as a little girl with her mother, making her intricate patterns to embroider on. It struck him as an immensely pleasant picture. He felt her loss then, at having that life scenario snatched away cruelly.

"See, you were different," he told her, stroking her back in an attempt to soothe her. "You were meant to draw those patterns. Otherwise, who would have helped your mother? That's your talent, art."

She remained quiet then, and he held her the same.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "I even attended some art classes when I was young. My teacher wanted me to attend a prestigious art school in France, but I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay with my parents. Perhaps, I could sense that my time with them was limited."

Once again, her words reminded Edward of his parents' demise. It would have been his demise as well, if not for Carlisle.

"I'm sorry," she spoke timidly, as if gaining a new perspective, "I never acknowledged it. You had lost your parents at a young age as well…"

He didn't speak, pondering on whether to tell her about his parents or not. Would she ask more about his human life? Would he be able to provide the appropriate details and leave the essential ones out?

"I never got to hear to about your parents," she said, hesitance colouring her voice. "But I'd understand if you're not comfortable talking about them. I usually never do it of my own volition."

"You did share some of your past with me," he stated solemnly, feeling all the more guilty of hiding his past from her.

"I did." She sat back and scoured her fingers through his unmanageable hair. "Because now, you're also a part of my family."

Edward leaned forward and kissed her gently, wiping the last remnants of her tears away with his fingers.

"If it's not too much to ask, would you tell me about your past? About your father and mother?" she asked, her lips still brushing his.

"Hmm?" He had nearly forgotten about their topic of conversation, too overwhelmed by her maddening scent.

"I do want to know more about you," she murmured as her soft lips whispered on his jaw, utterly enticing and hypnotizing. "Won't I ever get an opportunity… to know my husband better?"

"Of course." He swallowed the venom as he inhaled her breaths. "My parents, they were very affectionate…"

Her hand stroked his arm repeatedly as her coaxing eyes settled on him. She would be patient, for she genuinely cared to know. Unfortunately, Edward hadn't much to tell. He didn't remember his human life in detail, but only in the form of indiscriminate faded memories.

* * *

Oh my, I never thought I'd post such a lemon-filled chapter. ;)

A word of thanks to my PTB betas, **Bailey **and **Mistyfate**. They keep my comma explosion under check. Phew!

**Notes** -

Changed facts from canon-Edward wasn't born in Chicago, neither were his parents. They are English.

And yeah, I tried to give more depth to Renée, a more Victorian house wife persona, if I may say.

Oh, and one last thing, please just forget whatever you've read about the wolfpack in canon. Especially Jacob. I need you guys to read him with a fresh mindset. That way you'd not get irritated by the mere mention of his name in this story. Yes, he does have a role here.

**And yeah, do come to ****adifferentforest[dot]com and hang out with the bunch of awesome ladies over there. It's filled with fic discussions, fic recs, Robporn (and others' eye candy as well), and anything and everything that's Twilight. :)**


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except the creeptastic moves I play on these characters. Muahaha!**

* * *

"Of course." He swallowed the venom as he inhaled her breaths. "My parents, they were very affectionate…"

Her hand stroked his arm repeatedly as her coaxing eyes settled on him. She would be patient, for she genuinely cared to know. Unfortunately, Edward hadn't much to tell. He didn't remember his human life in detail, but only in the form of indiscriminate faded memories.

* * *

"My father, Edward Masen, the first, was a barrister. My mother's name was Elizabeth." His brows furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to recollect his human memories. "I am told that I resemble her… more than my father. Her hair was the same colour as mine, but the untidiness of it was from my father's side. It was the sole reason he wore it short and trimmed."

A smile ghosted across his face as he recalled a part of his childhood. "As a boy, I used to detest going to the barber's. My father often chastised me about my wayward locks. My mother would always defend me…

"It was all a long time ago… and I can't remember much about them, Bella, in all honesty," he gave up with a resigned sigh. "Other than their death."

Isabella had compassion in her eyes and a sad expression that told him that she could perhaps understand the gravity of his loss.

He didn't have the heart to tell her that she could never understand it completely… especially the feeling of waking up vacant, with only a sparse recollection of who he used to be, and none of what he had become.

"How?" she coaxed. "How did they die?"

"Our carriage… it tumbled down a hill. I was the sole survivor," he answered, omitting the part that he had actually not survived as a human.

"Oh." She retreated, her expression piteous and guilty. "I-I am extremely sorry. I shouldn't have prodded. I know how much it hurts, the sudden loss, everything. And you must have been so young at that time. It was very thoughtless of me to ask."

Edward shook his head to dismiss her needless apology. He was happy to have told her what she had asked and relieved that he didn't have to divulge the intricate details.

"Bella, it is all right," he said, cradling her cheek in his hand. "I'm fine. It has been a long time, so the memory is very faint and confusing. It is almost as though it happened in another lifetime. Carlisle—I mean, Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme have been very kind to me. They filled the void left after my parents died."

"So, that is why Alice refers to you as her brother, not her cousin. You seem very close to all of them." She stated it as a fact, not a query.

He nodded, wondering if her need to know him better was satiated or not. "They are the only family I have, other than you, of course."

She smiled at him, and he felt the exponential warmth of her affection. He felt almost human.

"Why did you leave England, then?" she asked with renewed curiosity, and Edward's high spirits sank.

He grappled in his mind for a viable answer while she looked on patiently, awaiting his reply.

"I don't know…" he sighed, gripping his hair in frustration. "I just wanted to get out of there, get away from the mundane and stuffy environs of London, seek adventure here in the new and promising land."

Isabella reached for his hand and attempted to dislodge his iron grip on his hair. He acquiesced, letting her pull his hand back into hers.

"Did you have a disagreement with your family?"

Her question brought a jolt to his senses, alerting him to be careful. "You can say that. Yes, in a way, I rebelled against my uncle and sought to create my own stronghold in a new place."

"Did he expect something else from you? Did he have aspirations for you?" One after the other, her questions lurked closer to truth, filling Edward with a sense of unease.

"Uh… yes," he answered, lowering his gaze to their joined hands. "He wanted me to pursue his own profession, that is, to become a doctor."

"Oh," she mumbled in deep thought, "and you didn't want it. It's understandable."

"How did you know, I mean, why did you ask?" He peered inquisitively at her, worried that his family might have given away too many of his secrets somewhere in their past interactions.

"You are always under some sort of strain whenever your family is around," she replied. An innocent observation on her part, but a deadly one for Edward. "There is an awkwardness in your interactions with them, especially with Dr. Cullen."

He smiled dejectedly at her sharp observations. "You now know why."

"That was very… strange on Dr. Cullen's part," she remarked, suddenly very sullen. "How could you have pursued medicine when you yourself had inconsistent health?"

"Pardon?" He almost recoiled at her words.

"I'm sorry." She blushed suddenly and turned to her needlework, wrapping it back into her sewing box. "I shouldn't have mentioned that…"

Then it occurred to him; she was talking about his supposed medical condition—the odd seizures. Albeit, they weren't remotely connected to a health problem.

"Bella, you don't have to apolog—Oh!" His words transformed into a gasp of shock as Isabella pricked her finger on the sewing needle, drawing blood.

"Ow!" She withdrew her finger from the cloth, her face contorted in shock and pain. "The needle. I forgot to pry it out."

Instinctively, she brought the jabbed finger to her mouth and began sucking on it.

Edward glared at her, frozen in his place, his hands trembling, itching to get a hold on her finger. Her blood sang to him, drowning out all the voices of reason, of the affection he held for her.

Nothing else concerned him in that moment, just her blood. The predator came roaring out of his human façade, and he was unable to keep him leashed.

"Edward?" she spoke in concern, withdrawing her finger from her mouth. Her innocent face grew drawn as she saw his deteriorating expression. "What is wrong, Edward?"

He didn't speak, he couldn't speak. Her finger… the tiny speck of blood on it was too mesmerizing for him to comprehend anything else.

A deep rumble resonated from his chest, attracting her attention. Her eyes widened.

"It's the seizure, isn't it? Oh, God!" She fumbled around him in panic, grabbing at his shoulders and telling him to calm down.

How could he be calm, when every muscle in his body yearned to attack her?

"Here, lie down." She tried to help him towards the bed, but he was frozen in place. He had stopped breathing, with much effort, and had locked his limbs in order to avoid pouncing on her.

"Leave," he growled, closing his eyes to remove the tempting vision of her pulsing veins. He could no longer stand the pull of her flowing, fresh blood.

"No," she refused, adamant in her stance, "I won't leave you, not in this condition."

"Bella," he muttered roughly, pleading in his heart for her to leave that very instant, "I'll be fine. Just… give me some time. Alone… I need to be alone."

"No, Edward," she replied firmly, "I can't let you suffer alone. I won't let you do that to yourself."

"You're doing nothing else but aggravating me by your presence!" He shook her hands off his shoulders, barely containing the violent urges of his monstrous side. "So help me here if you must, and just leave!"

Isabella cowered away from his shaking, enraged form. Her hurt was laid bare in her big, watery eyes, but she didn't respond in words.

Silently, she exited the room, leaving him in alone in his anguish as per his wishes.

Edward maintained a threadbare control on his ravenous impulses as he heard her depart. Still not breathing, he silently moved to his piano room, where her scent was less intimidating than anywhere else inside the manor.

The one window inside the piano room was thrown open, with Edward's head dangling outside it. It would take a while for him to calm down.

As much as he wanted to leave the manor, he couldn't. Isabella would notice, and then he wouldn't have an excuse to give her. After all, no sick man ever takes whimsical jaunts across a thick forest.

A tentative knock at the door tore him away from his maddening hunger.

A house attendant stood in the doorway, feeling nervous and apprehensive to approach him. Edward had been so preoccupied with his bloodlust that he was unable to hear her thoughts or her approaching footsteps.

"Yes?" he asked curtly, not bothering to turn around.

"Uh, Miss Webber is here," she announced, shuffling on her feet. "Mr. and Mrs. Webber left her here just minutes ago. She says they were in a hurry, and thus were unable to inform you prior to coming here."

Edward's eyes narrowed as he reached for Angela's mind. She was pacing to and fro downstairs, anxious and restive. It was about Henry Crawford again. Edward wished to throttle each and every person who reminded Isabella of him.

"Did you mention the same to the lady of the house?" he enquired, gentler in his tone.

"Uh, yes, Sir, I did. I thought I should inform you as well."

Edward sent the attendant away and closed his eyes to concentrate on calming himself.

He could hear Isabella approaching Angela downstairs. She was fidgeting nervously, even sniffling slightly. She must have cried again, and he knew why.

* * *

Despite her distressed state, Isabella patiently listened to Angela's account of her parents' hasty departure.

Apparently, Mr. Webber grew worried about Henry Crawford's absence from his usual whereabouts. He had perused all of his standard haunts, even his mistresses' residences, but he came back empty-handed.

So in a renewed effort to find him, he took off again, this time taking his reluctant wife along as well.

"But… has Mr. Webber alerted his immediate family? Perhaps, he is travelling and hasn't been able to communicate the same to your parents?" Isabella asked, her hands giving a slight tremble. It took copious amounts of air in her breaths to keep the trembling to a minimum.

"My father, the worried man that he was, got in touch with dear Mr. Crawford's sister, his wife, his friends and associates, and every soul he may have known," replied Angela, nibbling on a tart that Isabella had offered her. "He is worried that something happened to him on the way to Jefferson County, months ago, when he left just before the Fords' Ball. The day after he had dinner with us at your home, remember?"

Isabella coughed in response, hoping it would be enough for an answer.

"He wasn't even invited, but he had the audacity to accompany us to the dinner," Angela remarked bitterly, "when Mr. Swan had invited only us, the Webbers."

"Angela," Isabella cautioned, her voice lacking any strength, "Uncle never qualified. Everyone in your family was invited, and he was a part of your family."

"Yes, family, a putrid part of my family. I will never understand why he is even important to my father. He is just a distant cousin of his." Angela glared at the tart as though it had upset her. "Well, good riddance, if he did get lost, that is."

Isabella squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable at Angela's spitefulness for the departed man. Would she still be as spiteful if she ever got to know about his demise...? she thought to herself.

"You shouldn't say such foul words for a family member, distant relative or not."

Both Angela and Isabella turned their heads to see Edward advancing towards the sitting area.

He gave a polite greeting to Angela and then made himself comfortable on a sofa, as far away from Isabella as possible. Isabella didn't meet his eyes, but it didn't slip her observation that he was keeping a distance.

Angela proceeded to repeat to him everything she had told Isabella, and he listened quietly, looking quite interested.

His expression was neither grave nor amused, but somewhere between as he humouredly taunted Angela. "You have to bear with your family sometimes, whether or not it pleases you."

Angela became flustered under his scrutinizing eyes and persuasive tone. "I-I don't care. He is a foul man who deserves these foul words."

Isabella regarded Edward from the corner of her eye. From what she could see, he appeared to be perfectly calm and collected, far removed from the suffering, shaking man he had been only half an hour ago.

She didn't understand how he could recover so quickly from such a violent seizure. It didn't even look like a seizure for that matter, given the feral look Edward had in his eyes. Isabella would always be afraid of that look.

"Oh?" Edward arched his brow, clearly baiting Angela to divulge more. "A foul man? How come?"

"Umm, h-how are they going to search for him?" Isabella tried to veer the conversation back to its path. "Where was it you said he was headed?"

Edward's sharp eyes flickered to hers for a second, acknowledging the morbid secret they both held. Isabella's cheeks burned in mortification.

"He was headed to Jefferson County, but he wasn't going home, I believe. He had been visiting his newly acquired land around the Hoh River for quite some time—for oil tapping, as my father told me. I think he has a villa there as well, where one of his… er," Angela hesitated, stealing a glance at Edward, "acquaintances resides. The one he used to visit often."

"You seem to know a lot about a man you hate with such fiery passion." Edward chuckled, and Angela joined him after a flutter of confusion, covering her giggles in loud coughs.

"Well, as Issy says, he's family, and there's hardly anything that you can keep from your family. Sooner or later, the truth finds its way out, regardless of how sinister or embarrassing it is."

Edward stiffened at Angela's quip, but otherwise held his smile. Isabella's keen eyes didn't miss even the most minute of his mannerisms. He was not as blithe as he was portraying.

"You're deathly quiet, Issy," Angela noted, jolting Isabella out of her quiet scrutiny. She was watching her with curious eyes.

Isabella wasn't happy about being the centre of attention, given the still jittery state she was in. "I was actually listening to you two," she replied flippantly, adding a quiet laugh to compliment her light tone. "Your verbal sparring was quite entertaining, and I didn't have the heart to interrupt."

More giggles burst from Angela, and Isabella briefly speculated if Ben was to blame for her exceptionally cheerful disposition. She would have to question her privately.

"Why didn't you accompany your father in his search?" Edward asked, seemingly curious regarding Angela's stance on the matter.

"Oh, he did want me to come along as well, as though my mother wasn't enough, but I refused," Angela replied sourly. "Of what help would my company have been?"

Isabella cringed inwardly, hoping that Mr. and Mrs. Webber would return soon, since they weren't going to find Henry anywhere. At least, not alive. She wanted to end their misery by disclosing the truth about his death, but she knew Edward wouldn't be too happy about it.

"What if they are unable to find him?"

All colour drained from Isabella's face as Edward's question registered in her mind.

"I think then my father will pay a visit to the Sheriffs of both counties." Angela shrugged, looking least bothered about such a development. She indeed courted acute hatred for Henry. "My father won't rest until he finds Mr. Crawford."

Edward nodded, his face deceptively impassive.

"I hope my being here is not a hindrance to you." Angela appeared suddenly contrite, reluctant even, as she spoke again. "My parents preferred me here, living in your company, rather than staying at home alone. I apologise on their behalf, for their lack of concern for your privacy. I am actually thinking of heading back home."

"No, stay," Edward urged, smiling brilliantly at her. "We'd be pleased to have your company. What better chance would I ever get at hospitality? The manor has more than enough space to accommodate you without affecting our privacy. So please, be my guest."

"But…" Angela seemed to forget what she was saying, lost under the spell of his widening smile.

"And you're a close friend of Bella's," he continued, "I cannot be anything but pleased that you're here, keeping her company, especially when I'm away."

There was no argument left inside Angela. After a moment of deliberation, she nodded. Yet, Isabella noted the hesitance she showed upon agreeing to stay at the Masen manor. Having known her well as a friend, Isabella knew that she was keeping something from her.

All the same, Isabella noticed the knowing smirk that Edward courted right then, and it made her suspicious of him as well.

Then, abruptly, Edward excused himself to his study, citing the need to attend to some important affairs.

Isabella was left alone with Angela, and she took the opportunity to show her the guest rooms. Angela quickly chose one of them for her stay. Then she simply held Isabella as a prisoner in her room, to talk about Ben.

* * *

Angela's stay at the manor brought with it the vivaciousness that she possessed. Within two days as a guest, she had invited the Stanleys over for lunch and tea, with express permission from Isabella.

Edward didn't mind either, but then again, he wasn't the one to remain at the manor. In fact, he had decided to take a trip around Jefferson County, to see what proprietary avenues lay there.

Isabella wasn't in opposition to his travelling, but she was left feeling dejected in his wake. He hadn't been intimate with her ever since his most recent seizure had struck. In truth, he had stayed mostly distant. He either hid away in his study, or he was out keeping a watch over his various properties.

"So, did I ever tell you about my Aunt's neighbour?" asked Jessica, the younger of the two Stanley daughters.

"No, you didn't," Angela supplied, naturally intrigued by her hushed tone.

"Jessica, why must you narrate that story to everyone you meet?" Lauren, the elder Stanley sister, admonished. "You must refrain from it, now that Walter is betrothed in that family."

"But it's true!" Jessica argued, gesticulating with her hands.

"What is so interesting about your Aunt's neighbour?" Angela demanded, breaking into the sisters' ongoing argument.

"She was possessed," Jessica answered gravely, albeit too dramatically, "by a demon, they say."

Isabella wasn't sure whether Jessica was trying to humour them or if she was serious in her claim. Angela looked to be on the verge of giggles, which wasn't helping Isabella in her assessment of the situation.

"Don't laugh, Angela," Jessica reproved, her eyes narrowing, but Angela couldn't help herself. She burst into peals of mirth, almost spilling her tea on her bodice.

Lauren shook her head in dismay, muttering about her brother's ire if he ever found out about Jessica's gossiping ways.

But Jessica wasn't to be swayed. She went on to describe with intricate detail the whole phenomenon that affected a girl named Nettie Granville.

Apparently, Walter, the eldest of the Stanley siblings, had recently been affianced to Nettie's sister. This was the reason behind Lauren's insistent protests against the sharing of Nettie's tale.

Jessica took a careful sip of her tea before narrating further. "Even though she remained normal for the most part, there were peculiar instances of inexplicable, violent behaviour. You won't believe it, but her eyes even changed their colour when she was under the influence of the demon."

Isabella's eyes sharply wound up and trained directly on Jessica's animated face. Her description of the girl's possession sounded disturbingly familiar.

"She would shake violently and even attack the people who dared to stand too close to her. We even saw her during one of these spells, and it was terrifying I must say."

"When did you visit her?" Angela asked, now looking thoroughly intrigued.

"Oh, just a month back, when we were visiting Aunt Helen. Walter took us to meet the good old Granvilles. See, he was courting dear Nora, and we were eager to see her." Jessica seemed pleased with the thought of Nora, but Isabella was far too perturbed to acknowledge it.

"What-what did you say… about the changing eye colour?" Isabella interrupted Jessica's retelling of her brother's fondness for his fiancée.

"Well, Nettie has hazel eyes," Jessica supplied with a look of concentration on her face, "but when possessed, her eyes grew darker, fiercer, if I may say."

Lauren scoffed at Jessica's depiction, which she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Believe me, Isabella, it was a sight to behold," she stated confidently, "and even though it terrified me, I'd say that I was lucky to witness it. I have never in my life seen anything comparable."

"In your life of sixteen years, that is, which isn't much for a person." Lauren was resolute in putting Jessica down, but it didn't bother her.

"Oh, and her voice altered as well," Jessica added, ignoring Lauren. "She'd growl like a rabid dog and curse at the priest."

"The priest?" Angela's eyes widened in surprise, and Jessica nodded emphatically.

"The priest was the only person who would dare to go near her. She was afraid of him because the demon was afraid of him."

"Walter never said that; you are making up false facts," Lauren accused, her eyes warning Jessica.

"I am not." Jessica was defiant. "The priest was the one who cured her, after all! All of the holy men know how to banish demons, even the pastor here in Forks. Go and ask him, and he will surely explain it to you."

Angela was still looking amused, but Isabella was growing paler with each passing moment.

"Enough, Jessie!" Lauren glared, and Angela had to interrupt the argument before it became any fiercer.

The tea party had to be concluded in haste, leaving Angela red-faced and apologetic. She swore to Isabella that she wouldn't invite the Stanley sisters again because, for all their entertaining chatter, they were severely unmanageable.

Isabella gave her a lackadaisical nod in response, her mind hardly in one place.

"When is Mr. Masen returning?" Angela asked over a mouthful of scone that she had grabbed from the platter.

A few seconds passed before Angela's question penetrated Isabella's thoughts, and she had to focus her attention towards answering her friend, instead of the issues Jessica had introduced.

"In four days."

"Oh, I see. Why such a long tour?" Angela mused, tapping her foot insistently on the floor. "Just for surveying of the estates?"

"Four days… not that long a time."

"For an abrupt trip, it is."

A withered shrug returned from Isabella, who wasn't too thrilled to discuss her husband and his fickle temperament.

"I know how you feel," Angela muttered suddenly, after a long drawn silence.

Isabella was unable to place the meaning of her words; hence, she waited for more from Angela's side.

"Men, they forget us in their endeavours."

"But Ben promised you that he'll come to ask for your hand." Isabella didn't understand Angela's surliness regarding her beau. She always talked fondly of him.

"Ah, yes, that he did. But I don't want to grow old waiting for him to keep his promise."

Isabella frowned in reflection of her friend's griping. Only two days ago, Angela was chirpily talking about Ben. What could have changed?

"Sometimes, fear takes its hold on me," Angela confessed with a heavy exhale, just barely above a whisper. "Most men have a habit of courting more than one woman. And even if not courting, they seek pleasures outside of matrimony."

"I'm sure Ben is not one of them," Isabella assured her, though her own heart sank upon hearing Angela's anxiety regarding her future with Ben.

Angela regarded her with a sad smile. "I have the same opinion of Mr. Masen, so why do I see you suffering in silence?"

Overcome with surprise, Isabella backed away from her. "I don't understand the meaning behind your words."

"I do happen to notice your glum, Issy. He didn't even share a parting embrace with you before he left for Jefferson County."

"He was in a hurry." Isabella's blatant lie wasn't strong enough to hold the penetrating gaze of her friend.

"That is what I fear. Initially, they are so attentive, but then, they perhaps just lose interest. Or worse, someone else catches their eye. My mother always tells me to be prepared, for you never know when a man's fickle interest deviates. Some are even worse, like Henry Crawford."

"Why… why do you say such baleful things regarding him? What monstrosity has he committed?" Isabella's throat felt parched, as though thorns were resting on it.

Angela raised her eyebrows and laughed darkly. "You want to know? Oh, Issy, you had better not ask. I have never seen a filthier person in my life. Where do I begin? He hires poor men to work as labourers, and then he doesn't pay them properly. He keeps promising, though, so that they never leave him.

"He has so many wenches to serve him that he could run a brothel with their help. Most of them are the wives and daughters of his labourers, whom he accepted in lieu of financial help. My mother tells me that he even coerced a few into being his kept women. Can you even comprehend that? He forced himself upon these poor women, and then he maligned them as being of easy virtue… just so that he could keep them for his own gratification since no one would have agreed to marry them."

Angela's bitter recollection rendered Isabella ashen-faced, for she could then truly see herself through Henry's perspective. He had wanted her to become one of his concubines, forever doomed to serve him. She would have been a mere addition to his litany of mistresses.

She wondered if he had always acquired pleasure in breaking the spirit of young and vulnerable women. Regardless, she had never felt more beholden to Edward until this moment.

"Of course, I don't intend that Ben or Mr. Masen have any likeness to that putrid, soulless man. Heaven forbid that I even have such a thought," Angela exclaimed emphatically, seeing her friend's pallor. "I was just worried because my mother keeps warning me about men and their capricious affections."

Isabella could understand Angela's sentiment. Yet, she wasn't ready to accept that Edward was philandering. For all the trouble and anxiety he gave her, such deviations didn't look a part of his personality.

Yet, Angela's shared musings had nonetheless planted a seed of doubt.

A few bizarre questions gathered in Isabella's overwrought mind. Could it be that Edward was enjoying his time with a concubine while she waited for him at home? Was this the reason behind his frequent absences from the manor and his sudden aloofness? Or was there a more sinister reason behind his behavioural quirks?

Her mind suddenly reverted to Jessica's account of a demonic possession. Somehow, it seemed more befitting of Edward than a clandestine liaison with another woman.

* * *

The next morning, Isabella had promptly hidden away in the library after breakfast. Angela's chatter had grown more and more restive, and it was rubbing off on Isabella. Being tense and fidgety was the last of her wishes.

She was growing nervous of Angela's strange, twitchy mannerisms. It certainly didn't help her with her concern regarding her husband.

Thus, in an attempt to keep her mind away from worrying thoughts, Isabella had taken to reading again. Edward's vast collection of books and other reading material was more than enough to keep her distracted.

This time, she was thoroughly engrossed in a first edition hardback of _Wuthering__ Heights_, complete with the curious pseudonym Ellis Bell.

She found it rather amusing, and fascinating, that Edward had many first editions in his assortment. Perhaps he was a literary connoisseur.

Nevertheless, the book had captured her imagination, for it gave her a perspective on her husband's birthplace. Furthermore, the bizarre and inexplicable relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine—their odd attraction, their abhorrence, and their devotion to each other—had touched a nerve with her.

She was so entirely engrossed in the book that she never heard the hasty footsteps of her friend approaching her. It wasn't until she was standing right in front of her that she noticed.

"Umm, Issy?" Angela's hesitant voice was an indication that something was amiss.

"Yes, Angela? Is something the matter?"

"Yes… no… well," she fumbled, turning beet-red, "perhaps, yes."

Isabella waited for her to elaborate, wondering what could possibly render her loquacious friend so deprived of words.

"Ben…" Angela sighed as she slumped into a chair next to Isabella. "He… he had sent me a letter, asking me to meet him."

"He knew you were staying here?"

"No." Angela shook her head, her eyes downcast. "I received the letter prior to coming here."

"You never told me…" Isabella couldn't keep the shock out of her voice upon hearing Angela's admission.

"I… I didn't know what to do. He had requested my secrecy."

"So, he's coming to meet you?" Isabella tried to confirm, for she felt that there was more to this meeting.

"Yes," Angela answered, appearing unsettled, "but not here."

Isabella's eyes narrowed as she assimilated Angela's statement. Angela explained further without needing a reminder.

"He has asked of me to see him alone. I don't understand why he's being so clandestine about it."

"Where will you be meeting him?"

"I'll just wait at a deserted path near my home, the same place where he always meets me."

"Why not meet here, at the manor? I promise you that no one will disturb you." Isabella was never one to pry into the private lives of others, but she felt responsible towards her friend's wellbeing.

"No," Angela objected suddenly, "he especially asked me to meet him alone at the path. He wrote that he'd take me somewhere afterwards."

Isabella could see it in her eyes; Angela wasn't going to listen to her suggestions. "Then do as you please, Angela. But remember to be a responsible young lady."

"You shan't worry about me." Angela giggled dismissively.

"Well, I think I should," Isabella replied coolly, "since your parents left you with me. You're my responsibility."

Angela gaped at her for a moment but then composed herself. "I promise, Issy, just don't be so severe with me. You sound like Aunt Polly."

A warm smile replaced Isabella's stern expression then. Angela had cleverly brought up her weakness, a love for books, to disarm her.

"And like Aunt Polly, I truly care for you. Don't disappoint me."

Angela nodded and then hurried back to her room to prepare for her meeting with Ben.

* * *

Isabella stared at her platter, the remnants of her meal strewn across it, while Charles helped himself to a serving of the dessert.

"You haven't eaten much," he commented, looking pointedly at the half-eaten morsels on her dish. "It's unlike you to waste food."

His words filled her with guilt, and she hastened to polish off her half-eaten lunch. When she was done with her meal, Charles was quick to pass the dessert.

She refused politely.

It was strange, the two of them sitting at the dining table having an awkward lunch together… once again. Stranger still, the lord of the house was not present to bestow his precious company on them.

Since Angela was busy with Ben, Isabella found herself feeling lonely and restless.

The appearance of her uncle gave her some respite. Upon her request, he took a leave from work and agreed to spend the rest of the day with her.

She glanced at her uncle as he ate the dessert, remembering the time when she had newly arrived in Forks Prairie near the end of winter. How her life had changed dramatically since then, and how she had come to accept it.

"Uncle," she spoke lightly, her eyes readily observing Charles, "remember the times when you used to leave me inside the waiting room while you took care of some errands here?"

Charles peered quizzically at her as he answered. "Why, yes? You always became thoroughly bored."

She nodded, smiling wistfully at the memory. Not even in her wildest dreams had she known what her visits at the manor would entail.

"You were very grave about your warnings regarding Edward back then. The way you advised me to keep my distance…"

"Uhh, well… that…," he stuttered, visibly shaken by her broaching of the subject. "I was just… concerned about you."

A weighty silence passed between the two of them as Isabella stared at him with determined eyes.

"Is there something you would like to tell me, Uncle?" she demanded, repressing the urge to sound accusing.

He became tense as he assimilated her resolve. "I'm not sure, Issy, about what?"

"About my dear husband."

His sudden pallor was indicative of a hidden truth or two. Isabella was more than keen to know.

* * *

**So Isabella is going all wonky thinking about the why and how with Edward. Tell me of the theories you'd have drawn if you were living in that era?**

A word of thanks to my PTB betas, **Bailey **and **Mistyfate**. They are both fast and awesome.

Thanks a ton for the loving reviews! I tried to reply to a few of you, and will try to keep replying. Sometimes my comp fails me, so be patient? Love you all!

**Notes** -

I wanted to change Jessica's name, since this name was not in fashion at that time. But then I thought, what the heck! It was used as early as in Merchant of Venice. Now I'm tempted to rename Mike as Shylock. lol (kidding)

**Do come to ****adifferentforest[dot]com and hang out with the bunch of awesome ladies over there. It's filled with fic discussions, fic recs, Robporn (and others' eye candy as well), and anything and everything that's Twilight. *Waves to the fellow ADF'ers who might be reading* :)**


	21. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except the creeptastic moves I play on these characters. Muahaha!**

* * *

The steady gallop of the horses' hooves was the only sound that broke the quiet of the night, keeping Isabella company as she drove her carriage back to the Masen manor.

It was a late hour; she knew a tad too much about commuting alone on deserted paths after dark. Regardless, she made the journey, for she wanted answers.

Driven by apprehension, she had to take this step. She wanted to put to rest the grievances of her husband, and eventually her own.

An opportunity presented itself in the evening, and she couldn't resist. After all, it opened an avenue for her to pay a visit to the local church without having to explain it to anyone.

The Webbers had returned suddenly, owing to Mr. Webber's deteriorating health. Angela, who had returned to the manor wearing a stunning ring and an irrepressible smile, had to head back home with her parents.

Isabella was thrilled for Angela, as Ben had finally promised marriage to her. The way he had promised it seemed similar to Edward's proposal: independent and decisive. Isabella wondered if Angela had shared with Ben the intimate details of her sudden betrothal to Edward.

Nevertheless, it was a forgone conclusion that the Webbers would approve of their union. They adored and always spoke highly of Ben.

Angela's departure had given Isabella the time to deliberate over certain issues without being worried about disregarding her friend. She had been ignoring these concerns up until now, but lately, her need to seek answers rang louder than her need to suppress the unpleasant.

Thus, with an urge to understand the things that made no sense to her, she set out to seek the pastor on her own.

She was tempted to ask her uncle to accompany her, but somehow, she felt it would only serve to disrupt everything. Charles's dislike for Edward was not hidden from her, even though he tried his best to appear indifferent.

"I would have told you had I known anything, Issy. There is nothing to _tell_ but a lot to _sense_," he had said in reply to her probing while they sat together at the dining table after having their lunch. "Yet, I'd say that he is not an ordinary man. He is intimidating, and he acts as though he knows everything.

"Truth be told, I have seen him catch the smoothest of deceivers, on more than one occasion. He always maintained a distance from others, keeping his interaction with others to a bare minimum; well, until he married. Surprisingly, no one dared to approach him either, not even I. I knew not to keep anything from him, always. And see what happened when I tried to keep you from him."

Regret, hurt, and resentment were evident in his voice.

Isabella remembered the frisson that had passed through her when she saw Edward from her uncle's perspective. He was ruthless in his ways and had little compassion for anyone, as Charles recalled.

Charles believed that his honesty and integrity were the only reasons why Edward was even remotely benign towards him. However, whatever help Edward had given to Charles, he had taken his pound of flesh from him eventually.

"Me… I was the price Uncle had to pay," Isabella muttered into the night, to no one but herself.

A part of her still resented the manner in which Edward had proposed to her. He didn't even have the courtesy to court her first. His approach was blunt and cold, almost as though he were acquiring a possession.

Though, when she remembered the loving touches of her husband, the way he fondly looked into her eyes before he kissed her… she couldn't find a single speck of hatred within herself.

Why she was so susceptible to his charms, she did not know. Were they mere charms only? Was there no true affection in those amber eyes of his?

Isabella found herself dreading the answers to her questions.

Thankfully, she could suppress these questions for another day, for these questions weren't to be dealt with by the priest. He, however, did have something to say regarding her other queries…

Isabella had slipped away from the manor quietly after Charles had left for his residence. She had to dismiss the house staff as well, fearing that they might start tattling behind her back.

The church had been empty except for the priest, for which she had been glad. It gave her the liberty to have a more detailed conversation with him. Alas, she gained nothing of much significance from this conversation.

Exhaling a weary sigh, Isabella took the carriage to its shed and consigned the horses to their respective shelters inside the horse stable. Once finished, she headed towards the manor.

A wry smile ghosted across her lips as she tried to imagine Edward's reaction if he somehow happened to know about her late night travels. He certainly would not be sardonically amused, as she was.

* * *

Isabella removed her cloak and threw it on her bed in a huff. She was tired and frustrated. Looking back at her visit to the Church, she hadn't gotten much information from the priest.

He had given her holy water and asked her to pray. His obscure explanations hardly did her any good.

Pray she would, pray she did… everyday. Nevertheless, what Jessica had narrated to her was awfully terrifying, and Isabella wanted reassurance. Her meeting with the priest was not able to accomplish that.

She shook her head in dejection and proceeded to change her clothes in preparation for the night. The first layer of her clothing met with the same fate as her cloak: tossed carelessly on her bed.

As her hands stretched back to untie her corset, the familiar chime of piano keys reached her ears.

Immediately, she froze in place.

Part of her was afraid, but part of her felt hopeful, which appalled her.

Without wasting another moment, she seized the taper stick from her bedside and lit it from one of her bedroom lamps. Then, hurrying down the hallway, she stopped at the doorstep of the piano room; her eyes alight with curiosity and trepidation.

There, standing next to the piano, with his hand caressing the keys, was her husband, whose angelic face was shrouded in a scowl.

"Edward?" she gasped in surprise, the taper stick holder shaking in her hands. "When did you… return?"

"Where were you?" He turned towards her, aiming his steely gaze upon her. "Who were you visiting at such a late hour?"

"I…" she hesitated, deliberating what to say, for she knew the truth might bring upon an unwanted reaction. His actual response incited no humour within her, as opposed to her prior musings outside the stable.

"I asked you something," he demanded, closing the distance between them in fast strides. "Where the bloody hell had you gone to? Who were you seeing?"

His eyes bored into hers, glowing like seething embers in the candlelight. She cowered away from the intensity of his glare, fearing the attack of a supposed demon.

She wondered briefly if she should start praying.

"Bella, I am asking you something," he roared, clutching her shoulders in his unyielding grip.

When nothing escaped her lips, Edward moved forward still, pressing his body flush against hers. She exhaled sharply as the bare skin of her back came in contact with the cold wall behind her, shocking her senses. It reminded her that she was partly undressed still.

"Answer me," he whispered, closing his eyes as he lowered his face to hers, theirs lips merely a hairsbreadth apart.

Even in apprehension, her body seemed to align itself to his, arching into him. It scared her to be so stirred and defenceless to his proximity. She felt helpless to stop her reactions.

"You… are not the one to ask," she managed to utter, holding a faltering grip on her wits, "When you tell me close to nothing about your own jaunts through day and night."

It was Edward's turn to be surprised then, as she jutted her chin out in defiance, meeting his gaze with her own determined one.

"I can hardly see any reason in your frequent trips to your various properties, when there's always Uncle to do it for you. I thought that was the nature of his job."

Edward pushed away from her, his brows knitting together in obvious unease. Isabella was satisfied with the reaction, but it didn't make her happy, for it meant that Edward was up to something.

Anger and dread surged within her, causing her to charge towards him.

"You lied, didn't you!" How many things he lied about, she wasn't even aware.

"Bella—" he began in his defensive voice, but she didn't let him talk any further.

She pushed against his hard, unmoving chest, wishing to shove him as far away from her as possible.

"Tell me… tell me, how many of those athanasian wenches do you go to?!" It was the first thought that escaped her lips, and she was glad that she had finally presented it to him as a question. "Tell me!"

Isabella was surprised by the intensity of her own rage. It came forth suddenly, unexpectedly; and yet, it felt very apt in that moment.

* * *

Bafflement… amazement… or simply enchantment, Edward didn't know how he exactly felt, but it was a heady amalgamation of emotions.

Gone was the fury that had enveloped his every bone. He felt utterly defenceless now, with little to give back to his wife as truth.

Isabella was still pushing at his chest, her petite form shaking with the effort. He was afraid that she might lose her grip on the taper stick, which was swaying along with her.

Knowing nothing else to do, he let her push him against the piano, hoping that it would serve to alleviate her anger. If he wasn't concerned about his deceit, her rage would have actually amused him.

For a moment, he considered laughing at her, just to distract her away from her current frenzy. He didn't. He was wise enough, after knowing her for all these months, to be aware that it would only serve to hurt her and aggravate her more.

"Why, all men have mistresses, don't they?" she cried aloud, her voice resounding off the walls. "Because their wives aren't enough! No, I should perhaps rephrase it… because wives are only meant to rot at home, waiting for their husbands to return from their prurient outings with their mistresses."

Her actions were swirling her scent all around him like a thick cloud, making his throat ache. However, that wasn't his concern at the moment, even though his insides felt scorched from thirst.

Isabella was pounding at his chest now, with so much force that he feared it might break her wrist. So he took hold of her hand and tried to stop her violent thrashing, but she fought against him, attempting to pull her hand out of his grasp.

"Bella, stop, there is no need for this hostility." He tried to speak in a soothing voice in order to calm her down.

She stopped for once and stared at him with watery eyes, her cheeks flaring red in anger.

He was glad for a moment of peace, but it didn't last long. Isabella was not about to give up, as was obvious by her renewed efforts to wrench her hand free.

"No need for this hostility," she muttered as she struggled against him, "because it is not my place to question you or your authority… over me and everything you own. I'm just another acquisition, am I not? Which makes me wonder why you even insisted on marrying me, when some submissive, prettier girl would have sufficed you, who would know not to complain about her husband's philandering."

The spite in her voice was cutting like a lance through his chest. Yet, a part of him was pleasantly surprised at her indignation, for it meant that she couldn't bear the thought of him with another woman. Her fierce response stirred something within him… her jealousy fed his excitement.

"Bella, I married you because I desired you, is that not apparent enough?" he asked, grasping her face and pulling her to him. "My mistresses are only a part of your imagination."

How could she not know his affection for her? Had he been lacking in his efforts to show her?

Her hand clawed at his dress shirt, pushing him again. This time he conceded and slumped towards the floor, pulling her along with him.

She yelped in surprise, finding herself splayed atop him. He let go of her, assuming she'd want to move away from their uncomfortable tangle, but she didn't.

To his sheer astonishment, she still hadn't dropped the taper stick. Perhaps it provided her with a sense of clarity in keeping her away from darkness. The flame flickered and danced, creating odd shadows across the room.

Isabella glared at him, and he couldn't help but utter a low chuckle.

When she spoke again, her voice seemed rougher, weaker in its resolve. "Then why am I having trouble believing you? Then what was the reason behind your aloofness of the past week…?"

"And you assumed I was visiting a mistress or two?" He arched an eyebrow at her in challenge, interlacing his fingers with hers.

She didn't reply. Instead, she stared at their conjoined hands and then back at him, confusion replacing the anger on her beautiful face.

"Bella, contrary to your twisted beliefs, I'm actually yearning for you. No other woman can compare, Bella, I only desire you…" Every word that he uttered was laced with sincerity, and he hoped she could hear it.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then her face softened, flooding him with relief.

"I'm still wondering why you treated me like a pariah," she said softly, a hint of resentment in her voice. "What was I to think then, if not of mistresses?"

"I was unwell," he replied simply, keeping his face impassive.

"You were well enough to travel all day long and visit your properties," she argued, looking accusingly at him again.

Edward knew he was cornered. He would have to distract her, or she'd keep asking the most unanswerable questions.

"Some illnesses are indefinable," he stated smoothly, holding her waist tightly in his hands as he pressed himself against her most unashamedly. "You have to trust me when I say that I'm unwell."

She gaped at him and hurried to get up, but he stopped her, pulling her back against his chest. He held onto her delicate neck as he brought her lips to him, drowning himself in the sweetness of her mouth. Heaven and hell both merged for Edward, to give him the experience that couldn't be replicated anywhere else.

He relished it even, welcoming the fire in his throat, for its burn was the price he paid in order to be with Isabella. It was a part of their union, and he couldn't detest any aspect of their connubial relationship.

When she pulled away from him, breathless, her expression had changed. If possible, she appeared more fierce than before, almost decidedly deadly.

Laying below her, Edward couldn't complain, for he was basking in the heat of her body and enjoying the view of her heaving, barely covered chest. Her tight corset was making her bosom appear even more delectable, presenting it to him as an offering.

Returning his lecherous gesture, she thrust herself against him, earning a groan from him. He was pleasantly surprised to see her sexual valour.

"I suggest that you shouldn't roam about the house half-dressed, looking as luscious as you do right now," he said, pulling at her corset. "I might get spoilt and want you to relinquish your clothes forever, for good."

The corset came away, as its strings were already untied. Matching him in his aggression, Isabella tugged at his dress shirt. He obliged her immediately, pulling his dress shirt apart to offer himself to her, welcoming the heat of her hand as it roamed his naked chest.

An impish smile broke across her face as she wrenched his cravat free. It only aroused him more.

Isabella lowered her lips to his chest, planting covetous kisses on his cold skin. The sensation of her hot mouth on him was immensely pleasurable, coupled with the tickle of her undulating tresses.

Then, in a shock-stirring sensation, he felt a burning heat upon his cold skin, much hotter than her mouth. He stole a glance towards his chest, searching for the source of such jolting heat.

It was the wretched taper stick again, leaving drop after drop of liquid fire on him. He hissed loudly in response, causing Isabella to take notice.

"Oh!" she breathed out in shock, then proceeded to ask an unexpected question. "Does it… hurt? You're so cold…"

He considered it for a moment and then shook his head. The heat was shocking, yes, but it wasn't hurting him.

"It doesn't?" she challenged, letting another drop fall off the taper stick, right on his throat. "It is making you wince…"

He would have said something to her, just to humour her, but her subsequent act rendered him speechless. She kissed him on the throat, where the wax droplet had solidified, and then she went on to suckle on his skin.

Edward's jaw slackened in amazement, but he remained silent. Words were lost on him.

Isabella didn't stop there, she proceeded to surprise him further by dropping more of the molten wax on his exposed body. Specks of searing heat marked his taut nipples, which she simply treated the same as his throat, causing him to groan in shock and unmistakable pleasure.

"Bella," he growled, grabbing her chemise and pulling it off her in haste. As a result, the taper stick finally dropped away from her hand, to aid him in undressing her. It rolled on the floor, held in place by its holder.

The wax dripped onto the flooring and began to create a puddle amongst the various forgotten items of clothing, surrounding the couple who couldn't care less about them.

Muffled sounds of pleasure erupted inside the room as Edward lost himself within her. The relief of being one with her enraptured him, so much, that it overwhelmed his senses.

Isabella hummed beneath him, her half-lidded eyes staring off vaguely into space. She was the epitome of lust, looking utterly drunk with it.

"Edward," she moaned, her naked chest shuddering against his, "I'm so… wanton, so… brazen. Why?"

"So am I," he replied, though it wasn't the answer to her question. He didn't know the answer, just that he felt the same.

"Only with you…" She clutched at his hair, pulling at it violently. "You make me so powerless."

"Bella," he grunted, catching a hold of her wrists, pulling them above her head as though she were a captive of his. "I'm glad for that, but you have the same influence over me."

"Hmmm?" she hummed again, a satisfied smirk forming on her lips.

Something in her smug expression called to his primal impulses, inciting him to be more forceful in his movements. He pressed deeper, quicker, less lenient than ever before.

Her resultant gasp pleased him as he drank in her expression of shock and helpless pleasure. As though in reply, she arched herself towards him.

"Tell me…" he rasped, palming her bosom, playing with her tightened flesh. "Where were you, and what have you been up to?"

She bit her lip and shook her head vigorously, denying him the answer. He growled in frustration, changing his movements to a leisurely pace, just to frustrate her.

"Edward!" she cried, shuddering under the slow, drawn out strokes of their joined flesh. "Please!"

A look of anguish crossed her breathtaking features as she realized what he was doing. She flailed against him, attempting to coax him into submission.

"No, tell me first." He glared at her, willing her to bare her secrets to him. She was weak in her resolve, as she herself admitted, and he couldn't help but take advantage of her powerlessness.

Still, she didn't concede. All he heard in response was her loud breathing, coupled with the pleading murmurs of his name.

"No… tell me."

"No… I cannot say it!" she cried in frustration. "Not like this, not now!"

"Why?" he muttered roughly, plunging to her chest to suckle on her sweet flesh.

She squirmed under him, caught in a limbo of sexual fulfilment. "It'll be utterly mortifying!"

"Please, Bella," he urged, his tongue flitting out to tease her further.

"Don't…mmmhh—" her pleading stopped midway as he unexpectedly moved within her, showing her the promise of his reward for the truth. "Oh! Fine! Ch-ch-uh-urch!"

"Pardon?" he asked, wondering if he heard correctly. The church seemed like a highly improbable answer, even though he most certainly heard her say its name only.

"Church! The church!" she literally screamed at him. "God, please forgive me…"

For a moment, Edward was left stunned, but he didn't hesitate in resuming his rhythm inside her. Of all the answers he had contemplated, the church hadn't even crossed his mind.

Relieved, he decided to worry about it later and concentrated on pleasing her instead. A part of him felt guilty for toying with her. Yet, the need to know the truth was burning him with an intensity that even his thirst couldn't rival.

Beneath him, Isabella threw her head back as she teetered towards the edge. Even though Edward's remorse prevented him from falling along with her, he made sure that she was contented.

He was quick to remove himself from her, worrying that his weight might crush her if he didn't.

"Wait!" she wheezed as she calmed down, seizing his neck as she moved towards him. Her hands nudged him, and he didn't resist, settling on his back once again.

Isabella crawled over him and tentatively sat down on his hips, effectively trapping him beneath her.

Apparently, the night of surprises wasn't over.

Edward stared at her in astonishment as he lay on the floor, once again enveloped in her heat.

"I'm not a fool, Edward," she said, appearing calm, though her once again ragged heartbeat gave her away. "I see the differences. Sometimes, they are so stark, they are literally flashing in my face."

A spasm of dread passed through him, and yet, he found himself incapable of reacting. She was caressing his chest with her hands by then, while she cautiously rocked atop him.

"Would you tell me?" she challenged, her voice lowering to a whisper. "The same way I told you?"

"I don't have any mistresses, Bella, trust me," he managed to gasp out; his eyes fixated on the mesmerizing wobble of her bosom.

A chuckle escaped her then, which vibrated all through his body.

"Did I mention the mistresses this time?"

Warring emotions of alarm and pleasure coursed through him. His mind alerted him to the fact that she was treating him in the same manner as he had treated her merely moments ago.

Edward was as powerless to stop her as she had been…

She was relishing her hold on him, as was apparent in her glowing expression.

"Bella… just trust me, please?" he prayed, bringing his hands to draw her onto him more forcefully.

They both moaned in mutual gratification.

"So cold, so… different… why are you so?" she prodded, clutching him tighter. "Ruby… black… gold… why do you change?"

She almost seemed incoherent now, but he knew better. His mind grappled for an excuse, for any viable answer, while his body gave itself over to the mounting pleasure. Isabella accompanied him, drowning in the rising surge of desire.

Unexpectedly, she collapsed against him, breathing heavily on his chest.

"Why won't you tell me the truth?" she asked softly, giving into exhaustion.

He lay there for a while, warmed by her body, frozen by her questions. Her fingers traced his shoulders in arbitrary designs.

She was waiting still…

"Some things, I cannot tell," he whispered dejectedly, "for I'm forbidden to tell."

"All of your family?"

"Yes…" He couldn't deny it this time, that the Cullens belonged in the same stratum as he did. She knew, and lying further would not help his case.

"I cannot imagine you being afraid of anything… to the extent that it would inhibit you."

"Bella," he spoke with utmost affection, hoping she'd understand, "please trust me… trust me when I tell you that it's better not to ask. Is my love not enough for you? Is it not enough to keep us contented in this life?"

Her heart stuttered a beat, and he wondered if he had given away too much.

She rested her chin on his chest as she stared back at him with curious eyes. "Again, you sound as though your hands are tied."

"They are…" He didn't know what else to say to her.

"Will it cause you harm if you told me? I promise not to tattle." Her eyes were earnest and trusting, her words causing much anguish for him.

"Even if you don't, it could cause harm," he replied carefully, "to both you and me. I might be able to stand any harm to myself, but I will never forgive myself if you ever get hurt."

"You're trying to hedge, aren't you?" She smiled weakly.

"I will not deny that." He returned her smile, even though his dead heart ached. "I suppose you resent me for it, don't you?"

"Perhaps," she replied, closing her eyes, "but not enough to last me a lifetime. Though, I will resent you more if you treat me the way you did last week or if you decide to keep mistresses."

Edward had to chuckle at her quip. "I assure you, Bella, your hold is permanent and unbreakable… never doubt that."

He wished to say more, to tell her how profoundly she had affected him, but the steady pace of her breaths announced her escape into slumber. Disturbing her would be a sin, and he didn't want to add another one to his already extensive litany of transgressions.

* * *

The slow gurgling and spouting sounds coming from the river were somewhat relaxing. It at least served to calm the torrent of thoughts that whisked in inside Jacob's head.

Each morning, he came to this isolated segment of the Quillayute River and sat by himself, attempting to understand his future in his tribe. After all, he was to be their next leader.

Being the leader of any group would be a difficult task, and taking into consideration the unique nature of his tribe exponentially increased the responsibility he had to bear.

He had the added burden of leading a pack of volatile young men, much the same as himself. A lot was expected of him; he was to become the next Chief.

His father didn't have to face this twin burden of leadership since he didn't transform into a wolf. Neither did any of his fellow men. Somehow, Jacob's generation was destined to transform, thereby signifying that a threat was imminent, lurking somewhere beyond his reach for the time being.

This left him worried and agitated, often overwhelmed with the encumbrance of his duty towards his tribe—his people.

He grimaced at the flowing water, mindlessly jabbing a piece of wood into the pebbles. There was movement behind him somewhere in the bushes. Someone was watching him, trying to keep as quiet as possible so that he wouldn't hear. Alas, he could. It would have made for a good pursuit had he been like a normal human being.

Instead of confronting, he decided to wait to see what this person might want from him. Moments later, he heard the odd stretching sound of a string, followed by the sharp whoosh of something piercing the air, coming towards him.

An instinct to jump aside and away from the sound was prevalent, but he stayed put, allowing himself to be the target.

"Ah!" he mock-snarled as a small stone hit the back of his head.

A loud chortle erupted from behind him. He turned around to see his assailant; despite himself, he smiled.

"Leah!" he cried incredulously, trying to keep his smile hidden behind a look of surprise and horror.

"Don't I know you have a hard head? I know you're not hurt, so stop acting as if you are." She stood a few feet away from him, one hand on her hip and one brandishing her slingshot.

Her nonchalant stance challenged him, showing him that she wasn't intimidated by his look of disapproval.

"Leah, you cannot sneak up on me like this. I was trying to practice my calming ritual. You disturbed me," he accused, stepping closer to her.

"Ha!" She snorted loudly. "Liar!"

Without giving her another chance at mocking him, he grabbed her hands and spun her around. She shrieked and grumbled at him, struggling to break free, but he constricted her movement by bending her arms behind her back.

"You must stop trying to provoke me constantly, Leilei," he whispered in her ear, enjoying her resultant shiver when he uttered his favourite term of endearment for her: a special epithet he'd given her over the years.

"Let go, Jacob," she whined, turning her face towards his. He could feel her ragged breaths on his face, which distracted him from keeping her immobilized.

Her eyes pleaded with him, and just like that, he let go.

Leah's expression changed from pleading to triumphant in mere seconds, much to his amazement.

"Why are you wearing my clothes?" he asked, suddenly noticing her odd attire. He was so captivated by her that he had failed to recognise his own clothes on her.

"Because I like them," she replied without so much as a crease on her forehead. "I don't like my clothes. They are so… restrictive, I can hardly move around in them, let alone run through the forest."

He sighed and shook his head at her reasoning. It was nothing new; Leah had always felt more at home doing things that boys did. She shied away from her designated chores and was always found loitering around in the woods.

In a way, it had brought her closer to him, as a friend, as a constant companion. Even though her family lived at a distance in Mora, they faced little difficulty in finding each in the middle of the woods. Leah never feared the woods, nor did he; it was their playground.

Later, when he started showing signs of transformation, he had to distance himself from her. Yet, she somehow always found a way to seek him out.

He regarded her from head to toe as she stood a safe distance from him. She squirmed under his scrutiny, much to his amusement.

"Why not wear your brother's clothes? They might fit you better than mine."

She smirked at him and then looked pointedly at the clothes she was wearing, specifically to show him how she had adjusted them to her liking. The long shirtsleeves and pant bottoms had been turned over in order to keep her feet and hands out.

"Where had you gotten a hold of them?" he asked, slightly annoyed at her audacity, though, already knowing the answer. "You stole them from the back of my house, didn't you? While they were drying."

"I can't _steal_ something that belongs to you," she stated, still unfazed. "I always _borrow_ from you."

"You have to _ask_ for my permission before you do so."

"Your permission?" she scoffed. "Jacob, have I ever taken permission from you for anything?"

It was true, and even though he hadn't expressly told her so, she instinctively knew that he'd never deny her anything. After all, she had stolen his heart just as effortlessly as his clothes.

"Leilei, I'll get you new ones if you want to wear boys' clothes," he offered, walking towards her, "but you know Ma; she won't like it when she gets to know what you've done. You've soiled the clothes she washed with so much care."

Leah's face scrunched up at the mention of his mother, probably remembering the scoldings she'd received from her in the past for all her antics. But then she brightened as she realized what he had just offered her.

"You promise?"

He nodded, gaining a wide grin from her in return. "Now give my clothes back."

A mischievous glint entered her eyes then as he reached for her shoulder. She pranced away from him, almost dancing, her feet bouncing on the wild grass.

"You have to catch me first!" she giggled and took off into the denser portion of the forest, vanishing into the thicket like a wood spirit.

Needless to say, Jacob was after her within seconds, knowing how easily he'd gain on her and then catch hold of her. The legacy of transformation gave him the physical supremacy to do so.

He let her meander here and there about the trees, tricking her into thinking that she was evading him successfully. Unexpected attack was how he planned to catch her, just to see her subsequent reaction. He presumed it would be entertaining.

Yet, all his plans came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the green maze, as he caught an eerily familiar nose-burning scent. It was so strong that it stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Leah!" he hollered at the top of his lungs, suddenly worried for her safety. He knew she was a few yards away, still running farther into the now foreboding coppice. "LEAH!"

A giggle was all he heard in return. It was still an amusement for her, and she was most likely thinking him annoyed at being unable to catch her.

Feeling a surge of dread, Jacob dashed across the thicket, tearing past nettles and bushes to reach her as fast as he could.

* * *

**Raise your hand if you want to kill me for the cliffy! *Nervous giggle***

A word of thanks to my PTB betas, **Bailey **and **Mistyfate**. They are both fast and awesome, and are very encouraging.

**Notes** -

**_Athaniasian Wench_ is an archaic expression used for a woman with easy virtue.**

**_Mora _is extension of the La Push settlement.  
**


	22. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but yeah, maybe the *_better_* storyline? Whatever...**

**A/N: I'm glad that the response for the last chapter was cool. I try to reply, but FFn is being fail most of the time. Loved every single one of those reviews, even the anonymous ones. :)**

**So yeah, here's the chapter...  
**

* * *

"Have you given up on—" Leah's words caught in her throat, dying into a grunt of effort as Jacob crashed right into her, cradling her in his arms as they tumbled on to the carpet of thick grass.

He heaved himself up on his hands, adjusting his body over her like a protective cage as he surveyed their surroundings for any sort of threat. However, he was suffering a lot of distraction on her part. Her parted legs and heaving chest did nothing to help him. It was as though she was striving to distract him.

"Jacob—"

"Shh…" he hushed her quickly, attempting to rid himself of the baser thoughts that she was evoking.

Whispering footsteps, barely audible to even his own ears, seemed to be approaching the small clearing, where he lay with Leah. Whoever it was, was too quiet for Jacob's liking. A human being could never achieve this kind of stealthy silence.

Immediately, Jacob's combative instinct took over, causing him to shudder violently, signalling the oncoming alteration of his body.

A war of contradicting thoughts was churning inside his head. His instincts were arguing for the transition, but he was also worrying about phasing in front of Leah. She did not know about the truth behind the tribe's legends.

Sensing the approaching danger, he made the decision to push away from her in order to take his new shape.

Just as he moved away from her inviting form, a figure broke into the clearing: deathly pale … with dark maroon eyes.

Maroon was close to red… close enough to leave no doubt in Jacob's head, close enough to cause an instinctive spasm to ripple through him.

"What do we have here—" The creature stopped short, his smooth voice dying down under the wonder of what he was witnessing.

In an instant, the human form of Jacob was replaced by a colossal figure. His ripped clothes lay in a heap of tatters around him as he transformed into a giant wolf, ready to tear apart the pale creature, limb from limb.

Leah's expression was that of pure horror, but, even in her stunned state, she was sensible enough to slink away. She slipped behind a thick-trunked tree, her watchful, anxious eyes regarding Jacob in all his rust-brown, fur-coated glory.

The pale creature gasped aloud, his stance changing into a crouch in the blink of an eye. Jacob could literally taste his apprehension; he was certain that he had never seen a giant wolf of such proportions.

At a distance, two members of Jacob's pack, Quil and Paul, caught his thoughts through their mutual gift of pack communication. They were already heading in the direction of the clearing, instinctively prepared for a battle.

A loud growl erupted from within Jacob's chest, causing the creature, a Cold One for certain, to shake in fear.

The Cold One muttered something in a foreign language, reminding Jacob of his tribe's legends about these vile creatures.

From the corner of his eye, Jacob could see Leah trembling. Comforting her at the moment was not a wise thing to do, regardless of how much he ached for the chance. As much as he didn't want this confrontation to happen in front of her, it was becoming clear it was unavoidable.

In a bid to surprise his enemy, Jacob sprang in a wayward manner, not giving away his plan of attack. The creature jumped back, clearly shaken.

Then, a loud howl was heard from one side of the clearing, announcing the arrival of Paul and Quil.

Three against one, the creature was surely outnumbered. Hence, he made a dash for an escape, away from the clearing and into the dense forest.

However, Quil and Paul were quick to halt his getaway as they blocked his path and caused him to scamper in the opposite direction. The Cold One lashed out at them, concentrating more on Paul, for he exuded more untamed strength.

Paul shifted to the side, giving Quil a chance to swipe the creature, but the creature was fast and changed his approach dramatically. Though Quil was able to tear a scrap of the pale skin, he ended up with a wound himself. There was a deep gash across his shoulder, which was healing fast.

In a forward leap, Jacob forced the creature to back away, wherein Paul was waiting for another chance to tear him apart. Finally, the two wolves were able to corner him, pushing him towards the middle of the clearing. In his desperation, the creature became an easy quarry for Jacob.

A quick pounce, and the creature's arm was off, followed by his leg, rendering him disabled and vulnerable to further attacks. Odd ripping noises echoed about the clearing, akin to colliding boulders. His shrieks of pain were ear-splittingly loud, but they did little to hinder the three wolves.

All too soon, the wails choked to a stop as Jacob let Paul rip their adversary's head off. He gave them the instructions to burn the heap of torn, pallid limbs, which they enthusiastically promised to follow.

Jacob could hear the excitement in their thoughts and the pride at their achievement, and he let them bask in its glow.

He wasn't bothered about the accolades that his pack would receive from the elders. It was his duty to protect his tribe, to protect Leah. Praise was only a burden of words.

Upon thinking of Leah, he had to repress his thoughts, for his pack members were still in wolf form. He was not happy about the way everything had concluded in the clearing, especially the part where Leah had seen the gruesome, cruel side of him.

His beady wolfen eyes searched for her, but she was nowhere in sight. No wonder she had run away.

He was certain that Leah would be apprehensive of him and that their quick camaraderie was now perpetually severed.

Paul and Quil transformed back into their human forms while they collected the wood from inside the thicket for the last rites of the now dead monster. Jacob was glad for their intrusion to be gone.

Now fully clothed, the two pack members arranged a bonfire, and, after a nod of approval from Jacob, they lit it. A dark plume of smoke arose from it, signalling the end of the pale creature.

It was time for Jacob to turn into a human again, and, with much dread, he phased back. Being an animal kept the more evolved emotions at bay, but now that he was back into his human form, those emotions were whirling within him again.

With a weary shake of his head, Jacob ordered Paul and Quil to head back home and inform the elders of the incident. Their faces showed confusion upon his command, for they had assumed that he would divulge everything himself.

Jacob repeated his command, knowing that it would be followed this time without any hesitance.

As Paul and Quil made for La Push, Jacob sank to the ground and sat on his haunches, wondering how Leah would treat him, now that she knew.

He was grunting regretfully, his face in his hands, when he felt a tentative brush of fingers on his bare shoulder.

Surprised, he raised his face, only to see Leah's willowy form sitting across him. She gave him a tentative, yet playful smile as her hand travelled along his arm to finally clasp around his hand.

Her silence spoke a very ancient language to him, the one he intuitively understood. He didn't hesitate to answer her in the same.

It was unearthly, the bond that joined him with her. He could feel it strengthening as Leah's eyes conveyed acceptance and love and understanding.

Jacob never knew a joy as delightful as he felt in this moment with Leah.

* * *

Edward watched with intent eyes while Isabella slept beside him, lost to her dreams. A part of him dearly wanted to know of her dreams, for he had forgotten his own. Others' dreams didn't interest him, even though he was privy to them. He only craved Isabella's silent labyrinth of a mind.

The events of the previous night had left him in wonder. Isabella was far more observant than he had anticipated. It was his own folly, he knew, to have disclosed even a sliver of truth to her. Though, he did realise that he was actually powerless to stop it from spilling out. After all, for how long could he have kept mum?

Isabella needed to know at least that much of the truth; otherwise, he feared her to not trust him or any of his words. He needed her trust.

She stirred slightly, stretching her limbs, pushing the duvet downward. Edward drank in the resultant revelation of her creamy skin, appreciating the way it responded to the cool morning air.

Were it not to disturb her precious slumber, he would have reached out and caressed her luscious, yielding swells. He drew in a shaky breath as his perfect memory recalled their entrancing joggle, all while she writhed atop him.

Gingerly, so as not to disturb her, he pulled the duvet over her, in order to keep her warm and comfortable.

Edward considered how much of a distraction her charms were, for he was able to nearly neglect his concerns about his thirst last night. Yes, he remembered the burning ache all through his throat, but it was easily overcome by the jolting pleasure entailed in his union with Isabella.

The fear, the absolute lack of control that he felt a week ago, was entirely forgotten. When Isabella confronted him, all he could remember was the alacrity with which he craved her. His own premeditated argument was forgotten, leaving him vulnerable to her accusations and attacks, neither of which did he mind at that instance.

His sole absorption was in calming her aroused temper. Bloodlust didn't even cross his mind.

Now he knew why Alice was absent from his company the entire time he was with the rest of the Cullens. She must have seen Isabella's outburst… and the rest of the events of the night as well—much to his dismay.

It was indeed heartening to realise that Alice had the sensitivity to keep away, to maintain a semblance of dignity, for both his and her own sake. Besides, her visions wouldn't have been expedient to his cause; the end would still have been more or less the same.

By all means, Alice's immediate absence served the purpose it was meant to; it meant that there was no need for worry regarding his bloodlust. Had Isabella been in any danger again, Alice would certainly have warned him in advance.

Currently, his only lamentation was a lack of hasty communiqué. He wished there were better means of communication present, for it would certainly ease his anxiety regarding Isabella and himself. Alice wouldn't be needed to dash all the way from Port Angeles just to notify him.

The brush of warm hands across his torso alerted him to the present, and he realised that, amidst his intense contemplations, he had failed to notice Isabella's rousing.

One of her hands settled on his tightening stomach as she turned, smiling to herself. Edward tensed as she shifted closer, ensconcing him in her body's heat. He felt apprehensive regarding her temper. After all, she could still be holding a bit of the previous night's rancour.

A small sigh left her lips as she blinked sleepily, her eyes still cloudy and unfocussed. "You were so peacefully asleep a while ago," she garbled, her voice husky and thick with sleep. "I wish I could wake up with such regularity."

He chuckled at her remark, congratulating himself for his perfect charade of sleep. He had imitated the human trait well; lying sprawled on the bed two hours ago, when Isabella arose to relieve herself of another human need.

His eyes had feasted on the vision of her unclothed form while she stumbled about sleepily. Furthermore, he was delighted when she chose to climb back into bed without wearing any fresh clothes. They lay unused on the chaise beside the bed, where he had left them last night after tucking her in.

Her blinking eyes grew more awake with each blink, and he saw that she was, perhaps, expecting him to say something.

"Good morning, Bella," he greeted her softly, pushing a few wisps of hair out of her eyes. "I suppose it's selfish of me to wish that you sleep more than me, since you wish the opposite, but I'd rather watch you awaken every day than catch another hour's sleep."

Her eyes narrowed at him, but he could see that she was fighting a smile. He wanted to add to his greeting, but it would be too mundane for such a unique occasion. This day was special, and he wanted to bid a pleasant surprise to Isabella. At the moment, he decided to settle for a simple kiss.

Her hands crawled across his chest, leaving a trail of heat as he moved over her. Regardless of his intent, the simple, sweet kiss changed into a needy, ardent one the very moment their lips locked.

The familiar, hellish fire greeted his throat, and he received it with gratitude, for it gave him the pleasure of Isabella's proximity.

Isabella was eager in returning his affections. She draped herself around him, uttering little noises of pleasure as her bosom brushed against his chest. His mind was set free of all the worries, for her lure rendered it ineffective and incoherent for the time being.

* * *

Isabella was caught in wonder, as she tried to wrap herself closer to her husband's glorious form. How come she was always so hungry for him, so in need. She had never considered herself a creature of lust, that is, prior to her marriage… prior to Edward.

Now, she was shamelessly zealous in her desire for him. Even though she knew there were more pressing issues to be resolved still, more questions to be asked, she couldn't care much about them in this moment. After all, Edward wasn't about to leave for anywhere soon, and there would be plenty of opportunities to cajole him into a discourse.

Her legs parted willingly, welcoming him between them. Both of them hissed at the resultant contact of their excited flesh.

Then, surprisingly, Edward backed away and fell on his back. This didn't sit well with her.

"Breakfast," he rasped, eyes closed shut. "You must be hungry…"

"I don't feel hungry… yet," she stated, tugging at his arm. "Have you already eaten?"

"No," he answered, opening his lids to stare back at her. His gaze was molten desire.

"Then stay," she implored, slinking herself over him, "and we can eat breakfast together… later."

From where this newfound valour came, she did not know, but she was glad for it.

"I thought you ought to be tired"—she heard him say, as he lifted her shoulders, making her look directly into his eyes—"after what happened last night…"

The damnable blush of hers began to rise upon her face slowly. She bit her lip, wondering what to say in her reply. How could she even give a reply, when she herself did not know it?

"I don't know… how or why," she said honestly, clutching his shoulders in an effort to bring stability in her voice, "but I believe you're at fault."

Edward gave her a lopsided smile in return. "Good heavens, have I corrupted you!"

She giggled at his inference as she sat back, imitating her actions of the previous night. His gaze fell lower down her chest, and she fought the urge to cover herself. He was intimately au fait with her body, and hiding from him would be contrary to what she sought.

Abruptly, Edward arose onto his knees in a sitting stance, making her gasp in surprise. She nearly toppled back, but his firm hands kept her seated in his lap. With no clothes between them, she was able to discern his growing excitement. It pleased her to no end.

Edward reached between her legs, and she opened herself for his explorations, disregarding her imbibed instincts of modesty. Her flesh prickled and tightened where their chests met, the familiar coldness of his skin sending jolts of pleasure through her breasts.

He didn't squander any precious time in addressing her warm bosom, which she was impelling towards him like an offering. The shock of his cold lips on her stiffened flesh was a welcome one, ticklish and pleasurable, inciting a few giggles from her.

She realised, with wonder, that she craved his lips on her body as a thirsty wayfarer craved water in a desert. Still, his lips only served to ignite a more pressing need to invite him within her, to feel the divine pleasure of having him fill her.

As though he could sense her yearning, he caught hold of her waist and lifted her slightly, only to press her onto himself. All her giggles died then, making way for her trembling sigh of contentment.

Cradled in his arms, Isabella gazed into his eyes as she slowly accommodated him inside her.

Edward's eyes tried to remain focused on hers, but soon they shut tightly, just as a whisper of a growl quaked down his chest. She followed suit, closing her eyes in immense relief. They remained still for a while, enthralling in their coming together. It seemed new every time, and more intense than before.

Slow and mellow, they began to sway unto each other.

Unexpectedly, Isabella's eyes wandered around the room as she caught movement, only to be left staring back at herself. The massive mirror in Edward's room was reflecting them both in all their concupiscent glory.

Edward became urgent then, vigorous in his movements, so much that the bed creaked. His face was nuzzled in the hollow of her neck, his nippy breaths blowing wild on her skin.

Breathing heavily, Isabella blinked profusely as she looked into her own eyes, unable to assimilate this moving image of herself, which was hardly reminiscent of her. She was shy, modest, and always the proper lady; the woman in the mirror was anything but.

Yet, it was strangely arousing, seeing herself being ravished at the hands of her husband.

His lips hunted for hers, marking a path from her throat to her lips, but she digressed. Instead, she guided his searching eyes towards the mirror.

Edward froze, as though the vision in the mirror had arrested him. His astonished eyes stared back at her through their reflection, frenzied and hungrier than before.

"Never expected such a draw from a mirror," he admitted hoarsely, brushing his long fingers across her torso, from her neck to her thigh.

His eyes never left the mirror as he continued to caress her, from front to back… down and upwards. One hand held her steady while the other moulded around the swell of her breast. Her ears seemed to catch fire as she stared back him, urging him on with her imploring eyes.

Edward gently kneaded her soft flesh, while diving low to capture its stiff peak between his lips. He teased her, slow and deliberate, gliding his tongue out to tickle her sensitive nipple, his eyes intently observing his own actions.

"Enchanting," he murmured on her skin, planting fervent, capricious kisses as he renewed his rhythm within her. Isabella hummed in approval, which seemed to please Edward, for he drew her closer still.

"Oh God," she cried, clutching his bronze mane while he watched her in the mirror, his head resting on her bosom. "When does it end? Will I ever stop craving you?"

"I hope not…," he all but whispered.

Her body danced in his arms, uncaring and removed from her prior timidity. No one else could see her like this, except for him. It was solely for his taking, this newly discovered wanton, lustful part of her.

The ensuing shudders of her peaking pleasure were exceptionally intense, so much that Isabella felt she might faint. Edward's controlled strength, his whispering lips on her body, all served to ignite a white flame inside her.

The morning… their already late breakfast… everything was forgotten then, as they enjoyed each other thoroughly, lost in their cocoon of bliss.

* * *

Although Edward immensely enjoyed Isabella's discovery of the surprising exploits of his bedroom mirror, he didn't want to squander this entire day away to their carnal impulses.

He was already bathed and dressed while Isabella was still in her bath, understandably so. Waiting till she was dressed and prepared for the day, he ordered various fruits and food to be delivered to her room, where he joined her for their joint breakfast. He ate his portion without complaints.

Then, promising to return soon, he left her to her sewing, which she insisted on taking up again. Yet, for his apprehensions, he couldn't stoop so low as to curb her wishes. Instead, he decided to employ this opportunity to visit his study.

Blithely, he greeted the members of his house staff as he progressed down the stairs. Charles was waiting for him when he entered the study. His thoughts were exponentially mute today, which Edward found rather amusing. He wasn't much keen on his wife's uncle's thoughts, for most of the time they were heavy with contempt towards him.

"Charles," Edward addressed him pleasantly, taking his seat, "I suppose you'd want to be free by the eve."

"Yes," came Charles's gruff reply, "I came to ask for your leave."

"Of course, I'd be happy to grant it to you." Edward gave him a genuine smile. "Also, it'd be a pleasure to be your host."

Charles seemed uncomfortable with Edward's offer of an olive branch. Hence, he didn't stay put for long. Mentioning a trivial work related task, he made to leave.

Edward had just about managed to control his resultant mirth when another arrival came upon the Masen estate. His repressed amusement died quickly, for he hadn't expected this particular visit.

Within seconds of reading the person's mind, it became clear as to why this visit was being made.

A member of the house staff announced the pastor's arrival soon after.

Edward asked for the priest to be seated in the grand hall while he mentally prepared himself for this impromptu meeting. Impromptu, that is, for himself.

It was the same priest under whose blessings he took his wedding vows, but, regardless, he certainly was uncomfortable in facing a man of God. A certain part of him felt sacrilegious towards God in interacting with a holy man. He had thought that he would never need to be in the priest's presence again, at least for a long time.

Alas, here he was, preparing for the very meeting he was hoping to avoid.

Upon entering the grand hall, Edward greeted the clergyman with as much civility as one would hope from a God-fearing gentleman.

The priest eyed him suspiciously while returning the gesture, adding a blessing to it as well.

Edward's sensitive ears picked the hasty footsteps of Isabella as she descended the central staircase, her heart fluttering rapidly in her chest. She had been informed of the clergyman's visit, thus, her resultant nerves.

"Father Franklin," she sputtered slightly, as she made towards the two men.

The priest blessed her as well, then turned his attention back on Edward, his mind brimming with curiosity and bolts of instinctive fear.

Edward made sure not give him any such inkling that might taint him in the clergyman's eyes. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Isabella, who looked to be very discomfited.

"I-I asked for an audience with him today," she began explaining on her own, "as… as it is my birthday today."

The disclosure didn't surprise Edward, but it did serve to ruin his pleasant mood. He hadn't expected her to reveal this information in such a way.

"I had especially asked for his blessing…" Isabella looked at Edward with guilt-ridden eyes, her hands clasping and unclasping in her characteristic nervous quirk.

She wasn't lying, but she wasn't being entirely truthful either. Edward wondered if she knew how awkward she had made this situation for him.

Stiffly, he suggested for her to take a joint blessing with him, for a pleasant future together as man and wife. She agreed as well, though lacking enthusiasm.

Father Franklin was still intent on Edward, observing each of his mannerisms with hawk-like regard. Albeit, he was only a human, and Edward knew his mind. It wasn't so hard to make the priest believe of his innocence.

After giving his blessing, Father Franklin expressed his wish to obtain a tour of the whole of the Masen estate, offering to grant his blessings and purify their land. This ought to have surprised Edward, so he acted suitably.

"Surely, Father, I'll escort you myself," he offered without resistance, glancing towards Isabella to see her reaction. She had, after all, voluntarily invited the clergyman to observe the premises.

Edward deliberately asked her to accompany him for the tour, wanting to see the manifestation of her intentions. By what he had seen inside the mind of the priest, he was rather surprised in her deductions of his supposed behavioural misgivings. He had never at all thought about himself in such a light, and Isabella's perspective was all but amusingly refreshing.

They began with the front lawns, where Edward purposely halted upon seeing one of his gardeners, telling him to tend to a rose bush in a far corner. It was an attempt at giving Isabella a chance to converse with the clergyman, without the bother of Edward overhearing it. She didn't disappoint.

"Father," she approached him meekly, "I must confess to you, that I must have been under a misapprehension."

"What misapprehension, my child?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I believe that my husband is innocent, that he's not under the influence of a demon, as I had earlier assumed him to be."

"What made you think so, shall I ask?"

She chanced a tentative glance towards Edward, who acted accordingly, appearing to be engrossed with the gardener.

"His behaviour is perfectly fine ever since he returned from his tour. I am inclined to believe that it was my own anxiety, regarding his condition of seizures, which led me to think him possessed."

"My child, you are not in the wrong to have approached me, as you can always take solace in God for all your anxieties. I'm glad to see your improved disposition after last eve's visit," the priest observed, appreciating the healthy glow on her face, which contradicted her pallor of the previous day.

Edward wanted to laugh in his face for believing the change to be induced by her confession.

"Yes, Father, I'm feeling much better after confessing my fears. But I'm afraid, they were unfounded. As you can see, my husband is perfectly well-mannered and agreeable. Nothing in his conduct suggests any irregularity."

"Yes, but still, I have said my prayers for both of you. May all evil be banished from your lives."

She thanked him profusely and politely asked him not to broach this subject with Edward on any account. It was only embarrassment in her plea, which she would suffer from such a disclosure. Father Franklin assured her the utmost secrecy of her confession, adding that he never intended to mention it to Edward since he was quite an atheist in refusing to attend the church.

Isabella seemed thoroughly embarrassed on Edward's behalf, but said nothing in his defence. She had nothing to say, it seemed. After all, what excuse could she give, for she herself didn't know the cause of such transgressions of her husband.

During the rest of their tour, Edward observed the priest closely, just the way he himself was being observed. Silent prayers and blessings resonated in Father Franklin's mind all throughout their trek of the front lawns, the back gardens, the pathways in the adjacent wood, and finally inside the manor itself. It was his thorough attempt to rid the area of any harmful or evil force that may have taken shelter there.

Most notably, the priest had said his earnest prayers for Edward, whom he believed to be under the influence of such evil forces. Though his observations returned fruitless, he couldn't disregard the description given by Isabella. She had appeared much hassled and perturbed at the time she had professed her plight to him.

Beside the obvious given reasons for mistrust towards Edward, there was the natural inclination to keep distance from him. The fear seemed misplaced, but Father Franklin couldn't shrug it away as a mere apprehension of evil.

Edward reminded himself to keep the charade of utmost gentlemanly countenance in front of the priest, to quell all the suspicions which were being harboured against him.

As for Isabella, he was undecided as to whether or not he should approach her regarding this matter. He wouldn't be able to explain his means to the truth, which would bring about a horde of questions from her. It was an undesired topic of conversation—akin to Pandora's box. If he could help it, he wouldn't want Isabella to dwell on it ever again.

At the end of his visit, the priest wished them both the very best of luck for their future, and concentrating entirely on Isabella, he told her that he hoped to see her soon at the church. Edward was fast to note his displeasure towards him, for he entirely avoided anything and everything related to the church.

Once the priest left, Isabella turned to him and spoke in a curious, enquiring voice. "You knew of my birthday!"

Edward didn't deny it, though he let the discontentment seep into his expression at the awkward disclosure of this information.

"You didn't even wish me," she accused him coyly, taking his hand in her delicate ones.

"I was hoping for more opportune a moment, but you've nearly ruined it now," he admitted, attempting to keep the gloom out of his tone.

Isabella smiled sheepishly, lowering her eyes as a delicate blush painted her cheeks. Edward took the opportunity to hold her chin and tip her face back towards his.

"Happy birthday, Isabella, my lovely bride," he spoke in a mellow susurration, almost upon her lips. "I will do my best to make this day memorable for you, even though you've done your share for its attempted ruination." The last part of his loving confession was complemented with a chuckle, just to tease her.

Likewise, Isabella laughed with him, but her eyes still remained contrite.

Seeing that the magic of this special day was still preserved, Edward decided not to turn it sour by enquiring about the priest's visit, or worse, her own visit to the church. Edward knew the details, and that nothing could be gained from any interrogation on his part.

In actuality, Edward reminded himself how Isabella had obscured the pastor's doubts regarding him, which, though she herself had raised, she endeavoured to repress for the sake of her husband's dignity.

He didn't know what made her act the way she did, but he was glad for it. For one, it meant that she trusted him and whatever he had revealed to her the previous night. He must have satisfied at least some of her own doubts for her to defend him this way.

"Edward?" she questioned, looking into his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

Her musical voice brought him out of his meandering thoughts, warning him against self-absorption. Correcting his approach, he resolved to concentrate on her and her alone, for this was her day.

Just as he was about to reply, he heard the loud chorus of thoughts that filtered from the entrance of the manor. It nearly gave him a headache.

Isabella was about to enquire again, when a sharp, nearly squealing voice echoed from the main vestibule.

"Bella!"

Edward couldn't help but shake his head in surrender as he made way for the ever effervescent Alice, so that she could give Isabella a hug.

Shocked out of her wits, Isabella just about managed to return the embrace; her eyes startled upon seeing his entire family.

The rest of the Cullens soon gathered around his wife, each vying for an opportunity to wish her good health and merriment on her birthday. All, except Jasper, that is. He believed it too close a call to go so near a human as to kiss her hand in greeting.

_We meet again, brother_, he nodded to Edward from afar, _and I'm still waiting for your thoughts about our cricket kit endeavour._

Edward made a face, not sure whether he wished to laugh or to be annoyed by his brother's perpetual entreaty for a cricket match. The only trouble was… normal cricket equipment would turn to sawdust at their hands. That was why both Jasper and Emmett were keen on trying other ways, like creating a kit out of metal, namely, self-manufactured steel.

"I don't want to entertain you on that account, not today," replied Edward, crossing his arms in defiance. He was mindful of speaking in a low voice; much below his wife's hearing abilities.

Emmett looked at both of them after he was done wishing Isabella. He wasn't surprised at Edward's disinterested disposition; he considered him to be entirely engrossed in his wife for the next hundred or so years. Edward didn't want to discuss such a subject, since Emmett always seemed convinced that Isabella would be turned, regardless of when.

Edward concentrated on others' thoughts instead, which gave him mixed feelings.

Esme, who was chiefly still engrossed in Isabella, was delighted to finally see Edward and his wife together again.

Carlisle was all mute contentment. He gave Edward a simple greeting through his thoughts, and thus remained at a distance. Interaction between them had become much more strained over the last two months, almost the same as a few decades ago when Edward had estranged from his family. Any communication between Edward and his creator was essentially need-based. It was the reason Edward never confided in Carlisle any longer, and instead chose either Alice or Jasper for the same.

_She certainly looks happy_, Rosalie observed in her mind, demanding Edward's attention. _I must congratulate you for such an unexpected effect, Edward. I'm all astonishment…_

Edward gave her a tight smile, not missing her sarcasm in the least. He had learnt to tolerate her acerbic, bittersweet remarks, for he knew that at heart she always meant well. She was still concerned about her family's welfare, but her mind was warring over what she found most just: Isabella's humanity or their safety from the Volturi—who certainly wouldn't spare them for having a human in the know.

All the varying thoughts in the room rendered Edward a little weary, for they were coloured in varying moods. He dearly felt for Jasper, who was feeling more of the same.

He simply smirked at Edward, tipping his hat slightly in acknowledgement.

Soon, Alice announced to Isabella that the evening would occasion a special gathering, all in her honour. Isabella was instantly perturbed, as crowds made her uneasy, but Alice assured her that no such occurrence would take place as would cause her to be nervy.

The matter had already been succinctly discussed between Edward and Alice, where for Isabella's sake, Alice was careful enough to keep away any ostentatious fair. Thus, Isabella's fears were put to rest in informing her that no more than close family relations would be present.

"I must apologise, for I didn't think it right to invite the Webbers, seeing that Mr. Webber is so severely ill," Edward put forth earnestly, knowing, from Alice's vision, that it would not arouse Isabella's displeasure. "Would you still like for me to invite your friend, Miss Webber?"

"That's fine by me, for I believe that Angela's attending to her father is more important than any celebration. I fear for Mr. Webber's health," Isabella admitted, looking concerned. "I hope to hear of his health soon, from Angela herself."

"I'll check on them, if you wish," Edward offered, inciting curious, taunting thoughts from his two brothers.

"Please do, for I think Angela would be unable to visit me during his illness."

Edward smiled benignly, promising to fulfil her wish.

"Who'd 'ave thought 'im the _thoughtful_ kind, all servitude for his dear wife," Jasper muttered under his breath, which everyone but Isabella could hear. A deathly glare from Alice was enough to curb his further oncoming snide remarks.

"I'm so glad to have you all here," Isabella said, her eyes alight with sheer joy, "and that too, in time for breakfast."

Everyone stiffened at the mention of breakfast, visibly perturbed by the very notion of eating food.

"Ah, breakfast," uttered Alice with false jollity, "we already had ours en route, early morn."

"Oh, but that must be hours ago," Isabella observed, shaking her head. "I'm sure the lengthy journey has worn you out. I always became ravenous after a trip to Port Angeles."

Everyone chuckled, though with a nervous edge. Isabella wasn't backing down, she was incessant that they all eat breakfast.

"Let us be your hosts today," she continued, waving towards Edward and herself, "and have another round of breakfast."

Jasper and Emmett chortled rather loudly, stealing glances at Edward. Such asinine behaviour earned them a whispered reprimand from Esme, after which they promptly stopped and behaved themselves.

In Alice's visions, it was clear that Isabella was decided upon serving them breakfast and that no amount of persuasion would make her yield.

Hence, reluctantly, everyone agreed upon having breakfast, much to Isabella's delight. Edward couldn't but find it amusing, especially when he saw the resigned faces of Rosalie, Jasper, and Emmett.

Watching them eat the awful smelling food was going to be quite an entertainment.

* * *

**Okay, so I know I could have deleted the lemon and added it as an outtake, but I'm lazy. :P (Also, I kinda promised one very adorable reader of mine that there would be some unconventional *_use_* of Edward's gigantic bedroom mirror.)**

I did my foreshadowing bit in this chapter. I don't know if anyone caught it or not. My dear ole beta did. haha...

**Also, an earnest request to my beloved readers - Tell me about the quotes that you all love from this story. The very cool (and kind) Ms_Ambrosia is making me a blinky gif for MS, so I need to know what quotes you'd like to be added in there. I'd love to take your suggestions on the matter, since I'm Fail at deciding what quotes are deserving.**

A word of thanks to my PTB betas, **Bailey **and **Mistyfate**. They are both fast and awesome, and are very encouraging. I love them to pieces.


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